Catalyst
by jaded-alchemist
Summary: In which Harry, Hermione, and Ron get sucked into Middle Earth by way of a defunct portkey on their way to the Quidditch World Cup. Set in the beginning of GoF/The Hobbit. Rated M for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Catalyst**

**Summary**: In which Harry, Hermione, and Ron get sucked into Middle Earth by way of a defunct portkey on their way to the Quidditch World Cup. Set in the beginning of GoF/The Hobbit.

**Author's note**: First and foremost I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. This idea popped into my head a while back. I do so love Harry Potter crossovers (HP/LoTR and HP/Hobbit crossovers are a new fixation of mine) and wanted to try my hand at a Hobbit/Harry potter crossover, while reaffirming that my writing skills haven't gotten too rusty…which they most assuredly have.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Harry gasped for breath as his knees hit the grass, Ron collapsed in front of him with a moan of "I hate portkeys." And Hermione made a noise of disgruntled affirmation. His glasses slipped down his nose and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against the dirt, closing bottle green eyes as the world kept spinning dizzily about him. He dug his fingers into the ground trying to anchor himself down.

"Are portkeys normally that-" Harry broke off uncertainly, voice muffled by the earth.

"Brutal?" Ron inquired, his own voice muffled and Harry frowned as he lifted his head, blearily gazing over at Ron who was half hidden in the long grass, flopped over with an arm thrown dramatically across his face. "No." Ron finished in a deep exhausted tone, voice wavering only slightly to show his discomfort. Harry raised a brow at Hermione who was crouched, albeit unsteadily, off to one side poking at the boot that had served as their portkey with a furrowed brow.

"You're both being dramatic." Hermione scoffed straightening and tucking her wand behind her ear. Her arms crossed as she surveyed the two boys on the ground. "Besides, we have more important things to worry about other than a heavy bout of motion sickness." Ron peered around his arm at the girl and Harry repositioned himself to sit cross legged, blowing an overly long lock of hair out of his eyes.

Harry frowned suddenly noticing the extreme quiet surrounding them; he twisted his head to look about. They were in the middle of a vast valley, rocks poking out from the sea of green that surrounded them, in the distance he could make out a long mountain range. His frown deepened, "Where's everybody else?"

Ron shot into an upright sitting position eyes wide and searching. Hermione lowered herself gracefully to the ground, still studying the mangled old boot that sat between them. "That's the question isn't it?"

Silence stretch between them for a moment. "Bill says that sometime Portkeys can get worn out after a while." Ron stated slowly, looking discomfited by his recollection. "Maybe it just dropped us a little out of the way?" He added hopefully, standing up to survey the land around them.

Hermione frowned thoughtfully, "Then how will we get there?" She inquired eyes flickering between the two of them as Ron sat back down dejectedly. "None of us know how to apparate."

Harry snapped his fingers perking up "The Knight Bus."

Ten minutes later found Harry scowling and arm burning from the effort of holding his wand in the air, the Knight Bus yet to show. "Maybe it's just really busy." Ron interjected "Hang on Harry let me have a go." Harry allowed his arm to flop to his side as Ron raised his wand.

Hermione hadn't stopped pacing about the boot, her eyes fixed on it as she muttered softly to herself, theories and spells no doubt rolling through her mind. She paused to consider them for a moment before she looked at her wrist watch. "You look ridiculous. Ronald, put your arm down it's obviously not working." She snapped. Ron dropped his arm, scrunching his face up at her. "Maybe we've landed somewhere unplottable." She muttered, resuming her dizzying pace around the dilapidated boot.

Harry wandered a few feet away, climbing up onto a rock to gaze out across the field, his wand tucked into his back pocket as he gathered his knees to his chest. Ron soon dropped down at the base of the rock, head leaning against it as they considered their friend.

"Think she's losing it?" Ron asked quietly as Hermione stopped and picked the boot up to peer at the dirty laces before waving her wand over it with a muttered spell. The boot glowed yellow before turning neon pink and she scowled at it. Harry shrugged, not feeling as if he should be the judge of anyone's mental stability.

He focused on a distant hilltop, letting his eyes focus and in and out on the horizon. The wind picked up slightly making the grass bend and roll like waves towards them. Ron piped up again, sounding nervous "They're probably looking for us right now, we'll be at the game and laughing about this later, you'll see."

Harry continued staring at the hilltop, he wanted to affirm Ron's tentative optimism, but felt his throat close on the words. He instead made a strangled noise, and hugged his knees tighter to his chest.

Harry blinked as something seemed to surge towards them over the top of the hilltop he'd been absentmindedly staring down. "Hey Guys?" Ron looked up at him from beneath long red bangs and Hermione scowled at him from over her pink boot. "I think something's coming this way." Several somethings in fact. Ron stood scrutinizing the oncoming figures, Hermione turned, boot hanging limply at her side as she shielded her eyes in an attempt to get a better look.

"Are those people?" Ron inquired aloud as the figures drew closer. They were archaically dressed, swords or axes clasped in their hands. Behind them astride large dog like creatures were the most hideous humanoid creatures Harry had ever laid eyes upon, wielding block like swords and snarling at each other as they rode down the men. Hermione gaped incredulously and Ron dashed forward to grab her arm and haul her back toward the rock Harry now stood on, wand in hand.

A stout bearded man streaked past them at a speed that was surprising for his girth, "Run!" came the gruff command and Ron scrambled to comply dragging Hermione behind him as he went. Harry scrambled over his too large trainers off the rock, slipping down into the grass and onto his face. Hermione called his name, tone hysteric, the sounds of the heavy snarling bore down on them. He cursed and pushed himself upwards feet digging into the ground as he took off running.

Now at the tail end of the fleeing group of chest height bearded men, Harry felt panic clamp down deep in his gut. He hadn't run more than a few yards before something made contact with his back, making him see white for a second, and sending him sprawling into a heavily tattooed man. A few of the other men were keeping the creatures at bay, slashing at them when they darted forward. A circle of sharp fangs and mutated, heavy browed faces snarled at them, the world was too bright, everything seemed to be moving too fast. Harry tightened his grip on his wand as a pair of small but strong hands hauled him to his feet. He staggered, his back burned.

"Harry!" Ron called, waving him over to underneath an outcropping of rock "Hurry!"

Harry darted forward a few paces only to skid to a stop as large fangs snapped shut inches in front of his face. He flinched and stumbled backwards, automatically throwing his wand out "STUPEFY!" A jet of red struck the beast in the chest and it crumpled to the ground, trapping its rider's leg beneath it.

The rider gnashed its teeth, prying itself from beneath the beast with little difficulty and advanced towards Harry. It snarled something in a guttural language, raising its blockish sword above its head as it advanced. Harry raised his wand, blood rushing in his ears, tongue feeling thick in his mouth. With a whiz and a sickening thunk the creature fell to the ground, leg twitching and an arrow sticking out the side of its head.

Scrambling towards Ron, Harry's head whipped to the side, taking in the unnaturally beautiful men astride wide chested horses as they began driving the creatures away from the group. Ron all but dragged him down into the small cavern to huddle with half a dozen shorter men.

"Shit! Harry, you're bleeding!" Ron's voice swam in his ears and Harry stared up at him blearily.

"Lay him down lad and move out of the way, I'm a medic."

His cheek pressed into the rough rocky floor of the cavern as they lay him on his stomach, his eyelids getting heavier by the blink. The sound of ripping fabric and harsh cold air on his back snapped him back for a startling moment of clarity. Hermione crouched by his head, fingers carding through his hair, tears running down her cheeks. Ron hovering so very pale and scared behind her "Harry, hold on!" –_A green light, a cold laugh, "HARRY!"_-

* * *

It was black, and Harry knew nothing for a while. Nothing was alright, Harry thought into the black as he floated free-_wind in his hair as he swooped high above the earth. Grin splitting his face as he dove_-, nothing was better than something, better than Voldemort.

As if summoned by his optimism, the world righted itself. He jolted at the sudden feeling of his feet on the ground, his own body a heavy certainty. Smoke was everywhere. Hovering in a thick blanket over the ground, wafting up into the air in lazy spirals.

Harry choked on the rancid smell that hung as thick as the smoke in the air; he covered his nose with a hand, his eyes watering behind crooked glasses. Tentatively taking a few steps forward, Harry slipped sending debris clattering as he dragged his feet. He took a few more confident steps, his progress slow as he picked his way through the destruction.

The ground angled upwards and Harry found himself tripping over heavier things. The air stagnant as ever but thinner making it harder to breathe. His back burned and his feet throbbed, his throat swollen from the smoke. He reached a small flat platform and stopped, overcome by the need to look, the need to know.

There were bodies as far as the eye could see, crows picked at the mangled corpses below and Harry staggered backwards in shock. "Shocking isn't it?" Harry could only nod numbly, mind rebelling at the voice. That familiar voice, her voice _–"Please not Harry, not my baby!"-_

Pale arms hugged him from behind, red hair -_red as blood red as fire_\- forming a curtain around his shoulders as the woman -_his mother_\- lay her cheek against the crown of his head. "Oh, Harry." Her voice hummed into his burning back igniting it, making it itch. She slowly began to let him go, red hair leaving his vision.

"Mum?" Harry choked out voice raspy and uneven, full of emotions -_Longing, love, despair, blinding foolish hope_\- He couldn't turn, couldn't move.

Lily hushed him, arms circling about him again, gently rocking him side to side. "I'm here baby." Her embrace tightening briefly before she slipped away again. "You must be strong, be brave. Live, Harry." She whispered gently.

Harry trembled, "What if I can't beat him?" Harry allowed his fears to tumble forward -_green light, a twisted grin under a pair of ruby red eyes, red hair against cold stone_\- "He's so strong."

"Neither can live while the other survives." Lily whispered, sounding very far away.

"What? What are you saying?" Harry inquired, fog descending about him, hiding the sea of dead below him, silence hung thick in the air. "Mum? What does that mean?"

The pain was sudden and all consuming. Harry choked on warm blood –_his blood_\- as it dribbled down his chin, he glanced down at the sword -_long and straight, stained with blood as red as the rubies in its hilt_\- "M-" he choked again as the sword was pulled from his body. Hands going to cover the gaping hole it left behind, more blood bubbling from his mouth. He finally staggered around, turning to look into his mother's bottle green eyes, his blood staining her hands, Gryffindor's sword at her feet "Mum?"

"You must die, Harry." She said softly, her fingers running along his face lovingly, leaving sticky trails of blood –_his blood, her blood, blood of the damned, blood of the innocent_\- in their wake. "You must die in order to live."

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: I know. Before any of you say anything about the prophecy, I know. He doesn't hear about it until book five. But this is my cryptic story damnit. My dark twisted plotline (and boy do I love dark, cryptic and twisted) and I'll utilize Lily's ghost however I see fit. (though I doubt most will deny me my simple joys.)

Anyhow. Just a thought that crept into my mind and stayed there until I wrote it out, albeit a little rushed in the delivery and there's a lot of Hurt!Harry and honestly I wasn't going for that at first but it just sort of ended up that way. I am so mean to him…

So please forgive spelling mistakes and grammatical errors and review. Constructive criticism is welcome as always.


	2. Chapter 2

**Catalyst**

**Summary**: In which Harry, Hermione, and Ron get sucked into Middle Earth by way of a defunct portkey on their way to the Quidditch World Cup. Set in the beginning of GoF/The Hobbit.

**Author's note**: I must profess; I do not own _The Hobbit_, _Lord of the Rings_ or _Harry Potter_.

So the last chapter was a bit dark and morbid on the feel-o-meter…by a lot. A lot darker than I usually write (casually ignores last few chapters of _Defy the Stars_). So this chapter, with any luck, will be a little lighter than the last. Little plot building, little friendship, and little magic. No ponies though, sorry.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Harry shot up, breathing as though he had been drowning, his back lit up with pain, which he ignored in favor of pulling on the loose crème colored tunic to look at his chest, hands fumbling with the laces, ignoring the calm voice of the healer next to his bed as he abandoned the laces in favor of yanking at the fabric. –A g_leaming sword protruded from his chest, shining red with his blood_\- Gentle hands grabbed his wrists and a second pair firmly pushed him back to lie down as he gasped for air, tears rolling down his face, unbidden and unwelcome.

His eyes darted around, the lingering smell of smoke –_Tobacco, only tobacco_\- bringing his dream to the forefront of his mind again. And he let out a wail as a curtain of brown hair washed over his chest, murmured soft foreign words in a soothing tone only increased his panic. –_"I'm here Baby. I'll always be here."- _Something in the room shattered.

"Be still, _Henig, _the danger has passed." The distinctly masculine voice startled Harry out of his panic, and he forced his eyes to focus on the face –_Too close_\- of the man who held him.

He had high prominent cheekbones and flawless skin, arched brows and a kind look to his eyes, his ears didn't round at the tip, but instead elegant points that stuck out from beneath his long straight hair. "Who are you?" the question fell from his mouth as quickly as it appeared in his mind. The man released his wrists and sat back, blurring out as he drew away. "Where am I?" he looked about him uncertainly "Where are my friends?"

The man chuckled deeply, "Peace, youngling. I am Lord Elrond, and you and your friends are safe here in _Imladris_." Harry frowned, not recognizing the name. "You have been unconscious for a few days, I'm sure your friends would like to know that you've woken." Lord Elrond turned to his quiet companion and nodded, the other elf bowed, sending Harry a sidelong glance before he exited quietly. The lord stood gracefully his long flowing tunic swishing about his feet. "Uldel will fetch them. Do you require anything else?" Harry shook his head, eyes now fixed on his lap, teeth worrying his bottom lip, and thin blanket twisting beneath his hands.

The Lord nodded, and stepped from the room, the doors remaining open. Harry cast a glance to the bedside table where he thought he could make out his glasses next to a basin of water. He fumbled for them before shakily sliding them up his nose. White stone walls and graceful arches came into focus, and he blinked guiltily at a shattered vase, flowers spilling over the floor and water dripping from the edge of the dais it had sat upon. He looked back to the bedside table, frowning when he found his wand missing.

"Harry!" Hermione crowed, rushing into the room and hugging him as fiercely as she dared. Ron hot on her heals with a clap on his shoulder and heartfelt a "Good to have you with us mate." Harry pushed his missing wand from his mind as he smiled winningly at his friends.

"What are you wearing?!" He joked, plucking at Ron's sleeve, taking in the crème colored shirt and simple yet snug black trousers and leather boots his red headed friend wore.

Ron wrinkled his nose, "Laugh all you want, Harry. Just wait until you're laced into a pair of these britches." Hermione rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing at her lips. "Wouldn't believe how long it takes to take a-"

"Ronald Billius Weasley!" Hermione cut him off with a hard smack to the upper arm, tone affronted.

"What!" Ron inquired cowering away from her, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his lips.

Backing away from him and rolling her eyes heavenward, Hermione muttered something along the lines of "Merlin save me." before she sat down at the foot of Harry's bed, pushing a wayward curl behind her ear and fiddling with the green sleeve of her dress. "We were so worried Harry."

"You were out for two days mate." Ron interjected leaning against the wall by Harry's head.

"Where are we? What happened?" Harry asked, both of his friends exchanged a look.

"You were very badly injured Harry." Hermione started, a somber expression on her face, Ron started to pale at the memory. "There was a large gash across your back; Oin said it was a miracle your spinal column wasn't snapped in two."

Harry scrunched his brow, "The Dwarf that patched you up." Ron interjected quickly.

"Yes well, after that the elves insisted that everyone come back to Rivendell." Hermione explained.

"But Lord Elrond said we were in Imladris-" Harry started, heavily butchering the foreign word in process, Hermione shook her head.

She scooted closer to him on the bed, eyes bright. "That's the word for Rivendell in _Sindarin_-"

Ron rolled his eyes, "The elves' language."

Hermione rolled her eyes good naturedly, "I was getting to that. Anyway, they escorted all of us-"

Ron leaned forward a scowl twisting his features, "That trip was bloody terrible by the way. Dwarves and elves get on like kneazles and crups, you didn't miss anything mate."

Hermione frowned at Ron, and continued on in a sharper tone, "to Rivendell." Another well aimed slap to the shoulder sent Ron reeling away from the bed again. "Ron! Harry didn't miss out on the journey on purpose; he was injured and could very well have died!" Ron had the grace to look slightly abashed.

"It was a joke." Ron defended lamely.

Harry nodded in agreement, "He didn't mean anything by it Hermione." He defended softly, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Hermione let out a slow breath, "I'm sorry Ron, I just- We could have lost him." She admitted, biting her lower lip.

"But we didn't." Ron pointed out unnecessarily.

Silence prevailed in the room as the trio mulled over their situation. Harry twisted the blanket around his index finger, brow furrowed. "Where are we exactly?" Ron and Hermione shared another look and Harry felt frustration simmer in his chest.

"Well, we're not sure exactly-" Hermione started uncertainty creeping into her voice. "From what I've gathered, we're not on earth anymore. They call it _Arda_, or more commonly referred to as Middle-Earth. For a people with an extensive library the maps are incredibly archaic and largely unfinished. For instance the West of the continent is detailed but anything East of _Rhun_ is woefully under embellished."

"Two days and already she's already trying to memorize half the library." Ron muttered, in a fond sort of exasperation.

"Not on Earth?!" Harry repeated incredulously. "Well, how the hell are we supposed to get back?!"

Ron scratched his cheek with a tattered fingernail, looking distinctly uncomfortable with Harry's question "The dwarves had a wizard with them, said he was one of five in the world. This Gandalf bloke said one of his mates might be able to help us get back. Oh!" Ron jumped away from the wall suddenly. "Speaking of wizards, I have your wand, mate. Didn't want anybody filching it while you were out."

He fished the familiar length of wood from his sleeve and dropped it into Harry's waiting fingers. Warmth spread through him, the experience not unlike his first time picking up the wand in Olivander's and he sighed. The tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying seeping from his body.

"By the way," Ron nodded past Hermione towards the broken vase, "What happened there?"

Harry ducked his head sheepishly, as Hermione clucked and stood to go inspect the mess. "Oh Harry tell me this wasn't you."

Hermione waved her wand, with a quiet "repairo" and the shards and flowers leapt from the ground and back into place as if they had never been broken. "I had another dream." Harry confessed quietly, unconsciously rubbing at his chest. Hermione made a small noise of understanding, face softening.

Ron frowned, "Was it another one about- you know-" He floundered, eyes getting shifty at the very thought of Voldemort. Harry shook his head and the tension eased slightly in Ron's shoulders, but his expression remained serious.

"What was it about then?" Hermione coaxed, sitting back down on the bed.

Harry thought back on it, frowning as he sorted through the vivid images and smells. "I'm not sure." He finally conceded, "It was kind of like the dreams where I can see Voldemort." Ron hissed and flinched at the name. "I could smell and feel everything like I was actually there. There was smoke all over, and I was climbing up a steep hill, or maybe a mountain." He paused, unsure of how to continue. "And then I turned around-"

* * *

Two days after he had woken up Harry was given leave to wander the elven city under the condition that he not overexert himself. A condition which Hermione enforced by barricading them in the library to pour over dusty tomes in search of anything that would help them find a way home.

Harry squinted at the rounded elegant letters. He looked over at Ron who was nodding off over the same page he had started on an hour prior and grinned impishly. He slammed his tome shut, turning too large bottle green eyes to Hermione in an attempt to look innocent.

Ron jumped at the sudden noise, looking around in confusion before he narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Regular comedian, you are."

Hermione hid a smile behind her book. "I'm pretty sure this one's in another language." He announced a bit louder than necessary, while trying to maintain a straight face. Hermione pushed another, larger, tome to Harry who groaned. "Can't we take a break? Maybe ask that Gandalf chap about the other wizards?"

Ron dropped his forehead against the table top with a dull thunk, "Yes please!"

Hermione closed the book, using her index finger to mark her page, "I suppose we could take a break. But I don't want to be running all over Rivendell looking for him; Harry still needs to take it easy."

"I know where he is."

The trio jumped, turning to stare at the short childish looking being that had spoken. "Not to pry, but I overheard your conversation as I was passing by." He looked sheepish; thumbs hooked through his suspenders as he rocked onto the balls of his too large hairy feet. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

"Hermione Granger, at yours." Hermione countered nimbly standing from her seat. "This is Harry Potter," she waved a hand at him and he smiled and waved with two fingers "and Ron Weasley." Ron grinned from his chair and raked a hand through his hair.

"It's lovely to meet you all." Bilbo smiled nervously at them, rocking on his feet once more.

"Likewise." Harry replied, smiling at the man.

* * *

Dressed in a grey robe, with a long white beard that went down to his waist, Gandalf the Grey reminded Harry of a more serious Dumbledore. The older wizard stood to greet them, pulling his pipe from his mouth. "Ah, I had been meaning to track the three of you down." He turned his powerful blue gaze on Bilbo, "Thank you Mr. Baggins for escorting them safely to me."

The hobbit nodded his curly head, "Not a problem, not a problem. I'll eh-" he took a tentative step back, "just be on my way. Good afternoon."

Hermione waved at the Hobbit as he made to leave and Harry murmured a "thanks" to the small being before he disappeared around the corner.

"Now then." Gandalf drew their attention quickly, eyes assessing each of them in turn as he took a puff of his pipe. "Let's have a seat, shall we?"

The three teens nodded, as the old wizard motioned to some nearby chairs. Once seated, Gandalf leaned back in his chair, "I am Gandalf the Grey. Though I suspect you already knew that."

Hermione cleared her throat, "Hello Mr. Gandalf." The wizard let out a coughing chuckle.

"Just Gandalf is fine, young lady."

"Gandalf," Hermione corrected with a smile. "My name is Hermione Granger, and this is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter." The boys chimed in solemn hellos from either side of her. "As you probably already know, we're not from this world." The wizard's Bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. "There was a malfunction with our portkey, a form of magical transport where we're from, and we seemed to have been thrown into your world as a result."

Gandalf took another puff of his pipe blowing the smoke out of his nose, "That is quite the dilemma." He stroked his beard with his free hand, slumping further in his seat in thought.

"We were hoping you'd know how to send us back?" Ron queried uncertainty and hope flickering across his face.

Gandalf tapped the remaining ash over the white stone railing, a crease forming between his brows, "I am afraid that I am not the wizard to speak with about such matters." He admitted, frowning as the three children's hopeful countenances dropped.

"What about the other Wizards?" Harry piped up, desperation playing at his features, "Would any of them know how to send us back?"

Gandalf looked thoughtful for a moment, tucking his pipe back into the folds of his robes, "Perhaps one of the blue wizards to the east. However, this old man's memory is not what it once was. You'll forgive me, but I have quite forgotten their names."

Harry felt the tension that had built up in his shoulders at the wizened wizards confession melt away as he dangled another possibility before them. "How do we find them?" Hermione inquired, leaning forward on in her seat eagerly.

Gandalf considered them for a moment, "I am convening with the White Council in a few days' time, I will be able to answer your questions then. But now, I believe it is time for dinner."

* * *

Harry craned his neck to stare up at the arches as firelight danced across the stone in flickering patterns, and tried to ignore the flicker of homesickness he felt when he remembered a similar ceiling that instead portrayed the night sky. He shook himself as Hermione took his elbow and steered him towards the middle of the longwide table, the length of the hall, laden with food.

"Towards the end of the table are the company of Dwarves I've been telling you about." Hermione murmured into his ear, and Harry cast a cursory glance in their direction watching as they roared with laughter, the Elves seated a few seats away had a pinched look to their faces that Harry usually attributed to Malfoy. Harry and Ron sandwiched Hermione between them, listening to the dull roar of the Dwarves ebb over the murmur of the surrounding elves before falling again.

They helped themselves to the impressive spread before them, Hermione tutting at their choices. "Really just meat? How did you get so tall without eating your vegetables, Ronald?" Ron's retort of 'magic' around a mouthful of chicken earned him a disdainful sniff from Hermione and a small chuckle from Harry.

"D'you think," Ron inquired, mouth full of mutton "They know what treacle tart is?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ronald." Hermione chastised automatically as she primly cut into her chicken.

Harry opened his mouth to reply when a loud "You there!" interrupted him. Harry straightened jumpily from where he was slouched over his dinner plate, head twisting back and forth as Hermione and Ron grinned at him around their goblets. A short, stout white bearded Dwarf stomped up to them, peering at Harry in a scrutinizing fashion as he raised a bronze horn to his ear. "How's the back, lad?"

"I-erm-" Harry looked from him to his friends wide eyed and feeling off kilter, "Good?"

A frown so deep it seemed to lengthen the Dwarf's already impressive beard a half an inch crossed the man's face, heavy brow furrowing as he did so. "You asking me or telling me?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed a few time before he managed to stutter out "Telling-It's much better."

The man nodded, "Good, Good. I am Oin, son of Groin, I was the one who stitched you back together."

Harry blinked in surprise, "Erm, Thank you, I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

Oin peered at him with critical eyes, "You heal quickly, though I suspect that may be the Elves handiwork." He muttered mostly to himself. "No discomfort when walking, no sudden pains?" Harry shook his head in the negative. "Good, they didn't completely botch it then." He turned as If to leave then turned back, a stern look to his face, "And you better take care of yourself, you hear? Nothing strenuous for at least a week." He shoved a crooked finger inches from Harry's nose and the young wizard nearly went cross eyed.

"Yes sir." He agreed hastily. The elderly dwarf harrumphed before turning to stomp back over to his companions, and Harry sagged in relief.

"He's scarier than Madame Pomfrey!" Harry let out in a gust of breath as he turned back to his dinner, scowling at Ron over Hermione's shoulder as the red head guffawed, inadvertently spraying the table with half chewed mutton and making a few surrounding elves discreetly move a few seats farther away.

* * *

"Ah!" Gandalf gestured for them to enter. "Here they are," Harry took a hesitant first step regarding the white council warily. Lord Elrond stood tall next to Gandalf, to his right another elf, blonde and decidedly female and finally next to Gandalf stood a tall man robed in white, his white beard streaked with black and eyes coldly calculating. "Don't be shy, Lad. Come in." Ron nudged him forward and Harry aimed a scowl over his shoulder as his back let out a dull twinge of protest.

"I believe you've all met Lord Elrond. This is Lady Galadriel of _Lothlórien_ and Saruman the White, chief of the wizard's council." Gandalf indicated each member in turn.

"Young Harry," Lord Elrond welcomed, no smile graced his face, but his gaze was warm. "It is good to see you up and about."

Harry smiled awkwardly at the elven Lord, ducking his head. "Thanks."

"A pleasure." Saruman intoned, a single dark grey brow raised in askance as he turned his dark assessing gaze towards Gandalf. "I was not aware the White Council was in the practice of entertaining children."

Lady Galadriel leveled an amused look at the white wizard "Be at peace, _Curunir_. They are no mere children."

Gandalf smiled back at Galadriel a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "Right you are My Lady. These three children have been misplaced from their own world."

Saruman's eyebrows met his hairline, dark eyes now considering the three that had crept a little further into the room. "Is that so?"

Hermione spoke up from next to Harry, "It is sir." Harry nodded to affirm her words.

"We were hoping you may know of a way to get us home?" Harry spoke up impulsively.

Saruman chuckled, exchanging a glance with Gandalf, "You have courage, young Master Potter." He paused to consider them a moment, "I am grieved to admit that none within this council has the knowledge you seek. However, Alatar and Pallando, possess such knowledge." He turned to his fellow council members. "They are currently stirring rebellion against Sauron to the East, and it is hardly a journey these children can take alone."

Harry's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, intent on protesting on an escort when he was interrupted by Hermione's rather sharp elbow digging into his ribs. He glared at her as she stared attentively forward.

Elrond turned a thoughtful gaze upon the trio, "Indeed, Orc sightings have become more numerous as of late." Elrond turned to Galadriel taking part in a hushed conversation in what harry could only assume was Sindarin.

"Do you think they remember we're here?" Ron whispered, draping his arms around both of his friends and laying his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"Perhaps," Gandalf spoke up, "a Ranger escort could be acquired." He turned to regard them once more, a twinkle in his eye reminiscent of Fred and George when they'd gotten an idea in their heads.

Saruman frowned, as Gandalf leaned forward, gripping his staff with two hands. "The Rangers will be busy with the increased Orc activity as well, they will not willingly surrender a handful of men to escort children across Middle-Earth."

Gandalf smiled a half smile, the twinkle still present in his eye. "We will only need one."

Lord Elrond leveled an unimpressed look at Gandalf, seemingly seeing through whatever ploy the old wizard was cooking up, but said nothing. Lady Galadriel merely smiled, "Then it is settled, we send a raven at once."

* * *

**Author's Note**: And there you have it! Please Review; it makes me a happy duck to know that my writing is appreciated. Otherwise I think you've exited halfway through the chapter out of hatred and disgust. Then I wallow, and mope, and brood. Not at all conductive to story writing I assure you.

-_Harry's thoughts/memories_\- (- used mostly for his PTSD moments, poor duck)

A map for reference, for those of you so inclined:

**Sindarin words and phrases I may or may not have explained:**

_Henig: _My child

_Imladris_: Rivendell

_Arda_: Middle-Earth

_Curunir_: Saruman's name in Sindarin


	3. Chapter 3

**Catalyst**

**Summary:** In which Harry, Hermione, and Ron get sucked into Middle Earth by way of a defunct portkey on their way to the Quidditch World Cup. Set in the beginning of GoF/The Hobbit.

**Author's note**: I must insist; I do not own _The Hobbit_, _Lord of the Rings_ or _Harry Potter_.

The last chapter had some plot building; some friendship and I believe Hermione cast a 'repairo' so that counts as magic. All promises kept. Also, no ponies. I am a woman of my word. This chapter I feel will stay mostly light hearted, maybe a dash of danger, and adventure. I don't think it'll curtail down dark and twisted just yet. Oh who am I kidding, it'll be just a smidgeon dark.

I wanted to thank those of you who reviewed; your feedback and words of praise were most appreciated!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Harry shielded his eyes from the sun with an arm thrown over his face. "As lovely as Rivendell is," he stated out loud, a warm breeze washing over him, carrying the fragrant scent of the garden with it, "It gets bloody boring after a bit."

Ron scoffed from where he lay in a similar position nearby. "You're only saying that because you don't have an elf teaching you how to properly swing a sword."

"Yes, well Oin did warn him against strenuous activity." Bilbo's voice sounded from Harry's left. A bit heavier in some letters from, what Harry could only presume was, his pipe between his teeth. The wind stilled and a page crinkled.

"Five bloody hours!" Ron continued to gripe, and Harry could almost hear the Hobbit rolling his eyes.

"You asked for it Master Weasley."

"Begged for it." Harry concurred. "Besides it seems like you got off easy, Hermione's still at archery practice with Uldel."

"I don't think I can take much more of this." Ron whimpered dramatically. "You'll have to go on without me, mate. I'll just go to the Shire and keep those-" He paused, seemingly at a loss, "What were your relatives' last names again? Sackington-Baggins?"

"You've only had three sessions!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his arm off his face and hissing at the onslaught of sunlight.

"Sackville-Baggins'." Bilbo absentmindedly replied, he tapped his pipe against the trunk to the tree he leant against and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket, "Nasty sort of Hobbits. Caught Lobelia making off with a pocketful of my good silverware once."

"I'll just go keep Bilbo's silverware safe from Lobelia, you and Hermione can go traipse about killing things with swords and bows." Ron continued, ignoring Harry's outburst, as the brunette sat up to squint about the gardens. "Come and find me when you find the way home, yeah?"

Bilbo chuckled, "You may just need those swordsmanship skills to fend off my overzealous relatives, Master Weasley."

Ron groaned and Harry cackled gleefully, "Orcs, Wargs, Trolls and greedy Hobbit relations, the world is just full of danger Ron, no way to get out of swordsmanship classes now."

"Just you wait until Oin clears you for lessons, you lazy sod. You won't be laughing then." Ron countered sulkily. "Why can't we just use magic?"

"What happens if your wand breaks like it did in second year?" Harry countered earning him a begrudging sigh from Ron.

"Hermione's supposed to be the voice of reason." Ron quipped back petulantly, rolling over so he could look at Harry appraisingly, "I miss her."

Harry rolled his eyes skyward, "Slytherin's shorts, you saw her six hours ago. Besides I quite like being the voice of reason." Harry puffed his chest out slightly.

Ron hummed as if considering something, "But Hermione's better at it and much better looking."

Harry gaped at his smirking friend, "He's not wrong." Bilbo agreed amiably, flipping another page in his book.

Harry aimed his best puppy dog eyes at the Hobbit, "Bilbo that hurt! Whose side are you on!?"

Bilbo slyly glanced at Harry from under his fringe of curls, smirk belying his mischief, "My own, Master Potter." Ron guffawed, rolling back onto his back.

"There you are!" Hermione called to them as she strode purposefully across the gardens. Harry blinked at her in surprise.

"Hermione." Harry greeted, eying her hair appraisingly. She had pulled it back into a simple braid. "You've done your hair, looks nice."

Hermione beamed at him arranging her skirts so she could sit facing Bilbo. "Thank you Harry, Uldel suggested it. Makes it easier to focus on shooting when the wind picks up." She turned her smile on Bilbo who had closed his book on his thumb at her arrival. "Hello Bilbo! How are you today?"

"I am doing splendidly Miss Hermione." Bilbo smiled back at her, hand reaching up to ruffle his curls. "Your hair does look lovely in that braid."

Ron sat up to gape at his female friend, stuttering out a mumbled compliment along the lines of 'brilliant', his ears turn a bright red. Hermione's cheeks colored as she turned her attention to a blade of grass she had plucked and was mangling between her fingers, a small sweet smile crossed her face and Harry could only scoff, falling backwards again dramatically. "Well I'm glad you're here Hermione, Bilbo and Ron have been having a go at me. Quite unfair."

"Really?" Hermione glanced over at Harry in fond exasperation.

Harry nodded, throwing his arm back over his eyes, "Ron was saying how he missed you because I wasn't quite as pre-" Ron lunged over Bilbo with a loud war cry, causing the Hobbit to squawk in surprise. Hermione shook her head as her two best friends tussled in the grass.

* * *

A few days later found the trio making their way to Gandalf's chambers. Ron stretching his arms with a sour expression on his face and Hermione curling the end of her braid around her finger as they followed dutifully behind an elven woman. The woman turned sharply down a hallway and stopped in front of an ornate double door that harry only vaguely recognized.

As she reached for the handle the door heaved inwards allowing a man through. He stopped abruptly at the site of the quartet. "Master Brentan." The elf greeted with a slight bob of her head. "We were just coming to greet you."

He was dressed in dark cottons and wools, with a bow slung across his chest and a long sword at his left hip. His armor, consisting of only shin guards and braces along his arms, was made of well-worn leather. Dark hair was tied back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his square jaw covered in stubble. The man's deep dark eyes seemed to look through them. "I am Brentan, son of Elmar, at your service."

"Harry Potter, at yours." He bobbed his head in a slight bow, imitating the elf.

She smiled sweetly at the man, "Hermione Granger, pleased to make your acquaintance."

Hermione planted a well-aimed elbow into Ron's ribs, "Oh, uh-Ronald Weasley." Ron rubbed his ribcage, scowling slightly at Hermione, "Bloody hell woman, do you sharpen those?"

She turned a stern look on him and he wisely took a step out of range. Brentan cleared his throat, looking amused. "I will be your escort To _Rhun_. Tell me, do you have any experience with weapons?"

Hermione opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by Gandalf as the old wizard stepped up beside the ranger motioning them inside the room, "Hermione and Ron have just begun training, Harry is recovering from a rather nasty wound and will be fit for combat training within the next few days." Hermione's irritated expression did not go unnoticed by Gandalf, the old wizard's eyes twinkled and the corners of his lips turned upwards. Having never seen the Wizard eat, Harry suspected he ran off of tobacco and the annoyance of others.

Brentan looked pensive, "What weapons?" He inquired, turning to Gandalf and making his way back into the room, the three teens following tentatively behind him.

"Hermione has taken to the bow and arrow quite well, and Ron favors a long sword." Gandalf replied sticking his pipe in his mouth and releasing a long stream of smoke shortly thereafter.

Brentan's dark gaze turned to study Harry, making the young wizard fidget under its intensity. "And what of you, lad?"

Harry blinked bottle green eyes at the ranger, "Long sword?"

Brentan's dark brows rose. "You're unsure?"

Harry shrugged, "I've only ever handled a long sword once before."

Brentan frowned "Consider it to have been a blessed life you've lived thus far." Harry quirked a brow at that, deciding to let the comment slide. "I will be continuing your training as we travel, it would not bode well for you to be unprepared for any hostile situations we might face. We leave in two days' time, I suggest you pack your bags sooner rather than later." He turned and, with a nod to Gandalf swept from the room, reminding Harry strongly of Snape as his dark cloak billowed behind him.

* * *

Harry's eyes drooped as he slumped next to Bilbo in the library, both Hermione and Ron were busy at their weapons lessons and he had found himself once again gravitating towards the older Hobbit's company. They had long since fallen into companionable silence, only interrupted by the sipping of tea or the flipping of a page. Harry glanced down at the small scroll he had opened on his lap; it outlined various theories on the creation of Orcs.

The theory he found most plausible so far was that captured eastern elves, otherwise known as grey elves, had been corrupted and distorted into the orcs of today. Reaching for his tea, he blinked some residual drowsiness. He sipped delicately on the now luke warm liquid, pausing as he caught the dark gaze of a child peeking out from behind one of the Library's towering shelves.

Harry blinked, the boy blinked back. "Hello." Harry greeted, bewildered, pretty sure this was the first child he'd seen in the whole elven city.

The kid ducked before he seemed to gather his courage and took a single step out from behind the bookcase. He allowed one hand to rest on it as if for support as he squared his tiny shoulders. Harry thought he couldn't be older than eleven. "Good day."

Bilbo blinked up at the small, now apparently human, child in mild confusion, "Oh Good day, young Master- uhm, who might we have the pleasure of addressing?"

Harry smiled as Bilbo lay down his own reading material to turn and give the child his full attention, looking just as curious at the child's appearance as Harry felt. The kid ducked his head in a semi bow, "My name is A-Estel." He offered after a moment of silence, stumbling over his name in what Harry thought might be nerves.

Bilbo 'ahed' sagely, tucking his thumbs into his waist coat pocket, "Well met Master Estel. I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

Harry smiled at the kid, waving a little, "I'm Harry Potter." Estel smiled back.

He shuffled his feet slightly, hand still gripping the bookcase "I've heard of you." He admitted bashfully as if afraid of being scolded for eavesdropping. "You're one of the baby _Istari_!" Estel stated staring at Harry with something akin to wonder, his hand dropped from the bookcase.

Bilbo stifled a chuckle behind a cough and Harry felt his eyebrow raise up, "Baby what?"

"Wizard." Bilbo supplied, a smile still quirking his lips at his young friends expense.

Harry felt his lips quirk upwards as well, "Where did you get that idea from?"

Estel pondered the question for a moment. "Gandalf and the other Istari, were put on this earth by the Valar old and wise and ageless." He looked doubtful for a moment. "You are a wizard aren't you?"

Harry grinned flicking his wand at Bilbo's scroll making it levitate with a whispered charm, chuckling as the Hobbit squawked in surprise.

Estel's eyes grew round with wonder as the scroll slowly settled back on the table top. "Wow. What else can you do?"

Harry chuckled pocketing his wand. "I'm afraid that would be telling."

Estel smiled conspiratorially and hopped up onto a chair between Bilbo and Harry excitedly dropping his voice to just above a whisper. "I can keep a secret."

Harry hummed and tapped a finger on his chin in thought. "A wizard never reveals his secrets…" At Estel's disappointed glance he quickly scrambled to brighten the young boy's countenance. "But-Well I can tell you of the time I fought a Basilisk when I was not much older than yourself."

The boy beamed up at him and Bilbo settled back looking intrigued. As Harry began his story, he kindly ignored the Hobbit's muttered comment of "What do you mean, '_when_'? You're still not much older than him now."

* * *

The fire blazed brightly on the veranda, the dwarves all drinking merrily about it. Harry found himself seated between Ron and Bilbo, Hermione perched primly on Ron's other side lips pursed as a large dwarf whose name Harry still didn't know tore a leg off of a chair and chucked it into the fire.

He peered to the left and over the shoulder of a dark brooding dwarf at Gandalf as he and Lord Elrond conversed quietly nearby.

Harry's gaze was drawn from the older men by one of the younger dwarves that sandwiched the broody one between them. "Oi!" His countenance was much like the two dwarfs to his left and Harry suspected that they were closely related if not brothers. "You were the bloke from the plains."

Harry nodded unsure of where this was headed. "Harry Potter, at your service."

"Fili, at yours." The dwarf grinned roguishly and Harry was strongly reminded of one of the Weasley twins, he squashed the flutter of homesickness the likeness brought about ruthlessly. "Fancy work with that twig of yours, tell me does it grow as you age into a staff like Gandalf's?"

Harry felt his eyebrow tick upwards, "What?"

"I mean, it's rather small isn't it?" the other young dwarf piped up eagerly knocking shoulders with his older relation. The older dwarf turned an almost fond scowl upon the youngster but remained silent. Ron choked behind him.

"It's not the size," Harry blurted out,

Hermione gasped disapprovingly rocking forward to fix Harry with her best affronted look "Harry James Potter, don't you dare finish that-"

"It's how you use it." He finished ignoring Hermione's indignant huffing.

Ron guffawed, slapping his knee as the two young dwarves shot calculating glances to each other over the hunched shoulders of their relative.

Harry suppressed a grin for a moment before a heavy hand made him turn his startled gaze upwards into Brentan's dark assessing one. "We will be traveling with the dwarves for the first leg of our journey." He informed them. A scoff from his left drew Harry's attention back to the broody looking dwarf.

"I'll not be responsible for their lives ranger." He growled at them. Clearly trying to argue a point that had been discussed prior to this moment many times before.

"Aye, Master Oakenshield." Brentan bit back a note of barely disguised hostility in his tone that caused Harry to shrink under his hand. "Because it is I who will be responsible for their safety."

The dwarves had gone quiet around them as the two men stared each other down over the flames. A scowl stole its way over the dwarf's features and Bilbo shifted uncomfortably from beside Harry.

"Concern yourself with your own company, Master Oakenshield and I will do the same." Brentan squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly. "Gather your things and get some rest children, we leave on the morrow."

* * *

Hermione had changed into a pair of trousers and a loose fitting tunic for travel, much to Brentan's chagrin. The argument the two had had before they stepped foot outside of Rivendell had probably been the most civil argument Harry had ever had the pleasure of hearing.

Her hair was still braided flipped over a shoulder as she tugged at the straps of her pack. Ron was regaling Bilbo with the story of their own encounter with a mountain troll after hearing about the shorter man's escapades from Fili and Kili, no doubt some of it had been greatly embellished.

They had already been on the road for three days, Harry felt himself stagger over a loose stone and scowled down at it as he passed carefully, ignoring the sniggers of Fili and Kili from behind him. The landscape they had been trudging through was beautiful, though Harry longed for the convenience of the floo, or even a horse. He shrugged his shoulders beneath the straps of his pack and winced as his muscles screamed at him. His hand migrated towards his sword and held the hilt firmly to try to lessen how much it wobbled on his belt in time with his steps.

The travel was grueling but Brentan's training every evening was worse still, Harry squinted at the man's back. He had been working him through the basics, and promised some practical application tonight. No doubt pitting him against Ron and Harry narrowed his eyes calculatingly at Ron's broad shoulders.

The red head was taller, heavier and had more experience than he did in combat already, having been sparring with Brentan since they began their trek from Rivendell. He sighed and ducked his head, eyes rising to stare at the looming mountains they were heading towards. Then he regarded the company they were traveling with, most of the dwarves were distant and mistrustful, save for the mischievous brothers, Oin, and Bombur. Harry had been introduced to Bofur and Bifur, Bombur's brother and cousin respectively and found that they were at least pleasantly distant.

He dropped back intentionally, noting the large dwarf lingering towards the back, looking faintly disgruntled and lonely. "Bombur," Harry greeted earning a smile from the dwarf, "How are you today?"

He grunted as he kept pace with Harry, "I'm faring fine, young master wizard! And yourself?"

"Worrying about my first sparring session this evening." Harry confided honestly. "No matter who I spar with I'll likely be done for within the first few minutes. Ron and Brentan are both bigger and better at this than I am." He continued noting Bombur's sage nod.

"We all have to start somewhere lad," He stated with a wistful look on his face. "Why I was never good with a long sword myself, but I can fight in pinch."

His statement earned a snort from one of the more intimidating dwarves in the company as he dropped back to walk beside Bombur. He was broad with a long grey beard and a bald head, he had various tattoos all over his exposed skin and flint hard eyes that made Harry nervous to hold his gaze for too long.

"Don't listen to him, he's more than just good in a pinch." He stated gruffly slapping Bombur's shoulder, "Bombur can fight anything with anything." He peered seriously at Harry for a moment, and maneuvered to walk between the young wizard and Bombur. "Name's Dwalin."

"Harry."

The day went by quickly in Bombur's company, Dwalin occasionally chiming in with an offhanded comment or two, soon enough the rhythmic sounds of metal on metal rang over the campsite, heralding the onset of evening.

Dwalin sat a ways off eyes assessing and back to the fire as he observed the young wizard stumble over his foot work. He frowned around his pipe and turned his steely gaze to the Hobbit who had plopped down next to him, fishing about in his waistcoat pocket for his own pipe. "Evening, Master Dwalin."

"Master Baggins." Dwalin growled. Turning his gaze back to the sparring match before him.

Brentan was purposefully allowing the boy to fall into a mental rhythm before jarring him out of it. Teaching him to be familiar with his foot work before trying to encourage him to remain aware and open minded. The dark haired wizard was trembling from the effort it was taking to keep his sword aloft. Typical issues for a beginner he mused. It wouldn't be long until the ranger called the end of the lesson.

Brentan swung from the right and Harry's arms trembled at the impact, bottle green eyes staring stubbornly into the dark brown almost black eyes of his opponent. A muscle twitch caught Harry's attention, Brentan feigned right and then struck from the left causing Harry to stumble off balance.

He gently tapped Harry's flank with the broad side of his sword with a wide mischievous grin. The boy yelped and hopped away a few paces, "Oi!" nearly dropping his own sword. Dwalin chuckled from the sidelines and Bilbo smiled fondly around his own pipe.

"You're anticipating." Brentan called, sheathing his blade. "And your foot work is in need of some attention, but all in all you're doing well."

Harry sheathed his sword in a tired practiced motion. "Thanks." He cast a glance towards the tree line where Hermione was notching another arrow and Ron was whirling through his stances fluidly.

Brentan clapped a hand on his shoulder, "You'll catch up quickly, Harry." He reassured following his gaze. "Tomorrow we'll focus on that footwork."

"How am I supposed to know where my opponent is going to strike next if I can't count on muscle movement?" Harry inquired as the two trekked towards the fire, drawing closer to their meager audience.

Brentan opened his mouth to answer but Dwalin beat him to it. "It's in everything." He puffed on his pipe, ignoring the raised brow directed at him from the dark haired ranger. "For instance, before Master Brentan feigned a strike he swayed slightly from one side to the next. You just need to know what to look for."

Brentan blinked as Harry turned to regard him curiously, "I wasn't aware I had such a tell." The ranger stated returning his dark gaze to the dwarf.

"We all have a tell, Master Brentan." Dwalin merely grunted around his pipe, still eyeing the teen next to Brentan with a steely unreadable gaze.

Harry shifted uneasily before bowing partially and scampering off towards the fire. Bombur greeted him jovially, pushing a bowl of stew into his hands and it wasn't long before the young wizard was sated and drowsy.

"So this is a magic wand." Harry jumped, ogling a dark haired dwarf as he twirled a wand about his fingers, Harry's wand.

"Oi!" He cried snatching it quickly from the dwarf's fingers. "How in Merlin's name-" He cursed quietly, observing the thief before him warily.

The dwarf's brows rose in surprise, before he leveled a sly look at the young wizard. "Quick reflexes, lad." He observed aloud, "Nori, at your service."

Harry remained silent for a heartbeat, "Harry Potter, at yours."

"You'd make a decent pick pocket." Nori stated simply, a small secretive smile gracing his lips as he reached up to stroke his beard thoughtfully.

"Why would I want to learn how to pick pockets?" Harry inquired after a moment of deliberation, keeping his wand clasped in his hands and both eyes on the dwarf.

The dwarf chuckled and leant in as if to tell Harry a secret, Harry leaned away slowly, eyebrows meeting his hairline. "Your barmy if you think I'm letting you get too close mate." He stated when the dwarf's brows puckered in confusion. The confusion gave way to mirth as Nori grinned, leaning backwards to allow the wizard some space.

"Subterfuge is a weapon all its own." Nori said, pulling a pipe from his coat pocket. "You could plant something on someone, or lift something just as easy. It's a useful skill to have."

"It's a dishonest skill to have." Harry corrected, trying to remain firm, though the dwarf was making it sound mighty tempting.

Nori smiled wryly from around the stem of his pipe. "You sound like my older brother, Dori. Never did approve of my life choices."

Harry shifted guiltily as Nori seemed to sink into a darker train of thought. "I'm sorry, where I come from it's not a… common skill." Harry finally admitted, glancing away to see Hermione deep in discussion with Ori, the scholar and scribe of the company and Ron nearby grinning with Fili and Kili as the brothers regaled him with a tale.

Nori was considering him now, "Oh?"

Harry nodded distractedly, turning his focus back on Nori, "Maybe, you could teach me?"

"Sure," Nori's grin was sharp and predatory as he held up Harry's wand a second time. "We'll start tomorrow." The wizard gaped for a full second before he lunged for the grinning dwarf.

Nori's lessons on picking pockets turned out to be more fun than Harry had anticipated. It turned into a game as they trekked east towards the mountains. The dwarf would plant an object in the young wizards pocket, often a small stone, a stick, or a braided lock of grass. In return Harry would need to plant the object on Nori without the dwarf noticing. The game continued throughout the day, Harry only managing to plant two objects on the dwarf throughout.

Nori's hand lightly slapped Harry's away from his pocket during dinner that evening causing the wizard to withdraw his hand quickly, trying not to show any signs of foul play on his face.

"Master Nori," Brentan addressed quietly, hand falling heavily onto Harry's shoulder in a friendly gesture, "A word, if you will."

Nori sent the man a tense smile, his own fingers brushing against Harry's sleeve, the wizard flicked at his knuckle surreptitiously before the thief could lift his wand. Nori stood to follow Brentan to the edge of the camp under the curious gaze of the company.

"What do you suppose that's about?" Ron wondered around a mouthful of stew, craning to look over his shoulder at the two.

Hermione crinkled her nose at his manners scootching a little closer to Bilbo. "Manners, Ronald."

Harry shrugged, and ducked his head slightly as he scraped the rest of his portion into his mouth. Ron stared at his friend as comprehension dawned. "You know something." He stated quietly after he had swallowed the rest of his stew.

"I do not." Harry countered just as quietly as Nori came to sit down next to him again, his posture stiff. Brentan placed his hand on Harry's shoulder again to get his attention; his brows were drawn together in consternation. The ranger motioned for the young wizard to follow him before striding away.

"My magical white arse you don't." Ron muttered as Harry stood to follow the ranger.

"Ronald Billius Weasley!" Hermione scolded, though she sounded just the slightest bit amused.

Brentan lead him over to the edge of camp like he had with Nori only minutes ago. The ranger was silent for a minute and Harry shuffled nervously in front of him as the older man collected his thoughts.

"What Master Nori is teaching you is typically seen as unethical." Brentan began, seeming to be weighing his words carefully. "That being said, it is a useful skill to have in ones arsenal as long as it is used appropriately and not strictly for personal gain."

Harry felt his shoulder's droop as tension left him and relief took hold. "I should have told you." He said, peering out from under his fringe at the taller man.

Brentan crossed his arms, "I am-" he exhaled sharply, "Disappointed that you didn't, but I am neither your father nor your guardian so I cannot dictate what you do and do not do. I can however offer advice and guidance."

Harry nodded, mulling over the man's words. After a moment of silence the ranger turned to head back to the company, "Brentan?" Harry called quietly, uncertainty heavy in his tone. The ranger paused turning to look at the wizard. "I-erm, Thanks. For looking out for me."

* * *

"Where the hell did it go." Ron muttered patting at his trouser pockets for his whetstone; He stood from his position to scout around nearby before scowling irritably and fixed Harry with his best glare. "Harry."

Harry attempted to look perplexed, but soon broke into a grin and brandished the stone using a small trick of the hand Nori had showed him the other night. In a matter of days the pick pocketing game had taken on a new level of risk, Harry had gotten good enough and picking Nori's pocket that the thief proposed they expand their targets to a small pool of their comrades.

"Give it here you thieving wanker." Ron demanded, wiggling his fingers in demand. Harry tossed it to his friend with a slightly more apologetic smile.

Granted Harry would never take anything from Dwalin's pockets or even Thorin's, but Ron and Hermione were fair game in his book. Nori raised a brow at him from across the fire, "We need to work on your facial expressions. You can't lie to save your life."

Dori scoffed from his position next to his younger brother. "What a positive influence you are on the boy." He muttered, disapproval tinging his tone. "It's a wonder Ori turned out so well." Ori blushed and curled over his journal a bit more.

Bilbo rolled his eyes from where he sat between Hermione and Harry, "They'll be at it for the rest of the night now."

Harry regarded the Ri brothers as they continued to trade snide remarks, "They do this often?" Bilbo nodded.

"The longest they went without arguing was a fortnight." Dwalin growled from nearby.

Ron looked up, crinkling his nose at the term. "Fortnight?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Two weeks."

Ron ducked back over his sword, running the whetstone down the edge, "Why didn't he just say that?" he muttered mostly to himself. "S'not like it's unheard of for sibling's to fight. I have six siblings; a fight breaks out at least once every other day."

Thorin's brows shot up in surprise and Kili leaned to look around his brother, flabbergasted.

"Six siblings?" Bombur inquired, clutching a roll of bread to his chest as if to soften the shock he felt.

Ron looked up, confused at the different levels of shock and awe he found aimed at him from around the fire. "Is that unusual?"

"Highly." Brentan replied, "Families usually have two maybe three children at the most, any more and the family would be nearly impossible to feed."

"Is that a normal number of children to have where you're from?" Gloin inquired, leaning forward interestedly.

Hermione shook her head, "No, but it's not unheard of."

"You must miss them." Bilbo stated, a sadness creeping into his voice.

Ron drooped, sheathing his sword "Yeah, I do."

Fili nearly bounced with excitement, "What's it like having so many brothers and sisters?"

Ron seemed to perk up at this "Well, my two oldest brothers, Bill and Charlie live on their own now. Bill's a curse breaker and Charlie works with dragons." Harry settled back content to let the memories of the burrow wash over him.

The company murmured in confusion at the mention of dragons and Thorin scowled darkly. "There is no working with dragons; they are beasts of greed and destruction."

"Maybe here, but where we come from, dragons are animals just like a hippogriff or a unicorn." Hermione pitched in informatively. She turned quickly back to Ron urging him to continue speaking, missing out on Bofur's muttered "Hippogriff?"

Ron nodded, "They are still dangerous though. Charlie has burns all over, Proud of 'em even." He paused as the company digested this. "Then there's Percy. He's a bit of a kiss arse, wants to be a politician someday. Then there's Fred and George, twins and pranksters, think everything's a bloody joke. Then there's me and finally my younger sister Ginny. She's a year younger than us." He grinned, shooting Harry a look "Used to have a huge crush on Harry."

Harry's eyes widened as grins were shot his way, and he felt his cheeks warm up.

"Sounds like your parents have their hands full." Gloin looked puzzled and somewhat grateful. "Thank the stars I only have Gimli. He's got enough energy for three dwarrowlings. Can't imagine an entire brood just like him."

Harry leaned forward to consider Brentan, the man's eyes seemed faraway. "What about you Brentan?" Harry inquired rather boldly.

The ranger blinked and focused on him in surprise, "I have a wonderful wife, Ella, and two daughters." He shot the three young magic users a considering glance, "They're about your age."

"A curse and a blessing to be stuck in a house full of women." Dwalin commiserated a mischievous twinkle in his normally serious gaze, he laid a heavy hand on Brentan's shoulder.

Brentan smirked fondly, "Aye, indeed it is."

Bifur laughed jovially before saying something in rapid fire Khuzdul making the rest of the dwarves break into raucous laughter.

* * *

A week later found the company in the misty mountains, the dwarves taking to the rocky terrain like a fish to water. Bilbo struggled towards the rear of the group with Brentan and his three magical charges.

"Take care you keep up!" Harry scowled down at the slick rocky ground as Thorin barked back at the stragglers.

The mood surrounding the company had turned dark. Dark as the clouds, dark as the weather. The rain seemed to pick up and the wind blew through his cloak, making Harry shiver violently. Hermione bumped shoulder's with him, frowning miserably at Thorin's back as he disappeared further up the mountain.

Ron panted behind them, "They're like bloody Billy goats. Could probably run up that cliff wall if they fancied it." Ron growled motioning towards the cliff face to their left, while maintaining a healthy distance from the sheer drop to their right.

Hermione stifled a giggle behind her hand and Brentan turned to give them an admonishing glance. His small smile ruined the effect however and the three teens shared a broad grin.

It wasn't long before the wind began to howl, lightning crashing around the mountain, Harry counted seconds between lightning and thunder until the two were simultaneous.

Hermione pressed into his side, her mouth inches from his ear. Her voice was whipped away by the gale around them. He turned to her, motioning that he hadn't heard and she seemed to gather herself, "I said," she screamed and Harry pushed his head closer to her to catch all of it, "That this is unsafe! We need to find shelter soon!"

Bilbo nearly staggered off the side of the cliff, Dwalin caught the hobbit by his cloak and yanked him back to safety swiftly.

Thorin turned his dark frown on the company, "We must find shelter!" His voice boomed over the sounds of the storm and Harry envied him that at least, but gave Hermione a comforting squeeze before she dropped back to walk with Ron.

"Watch out!" Dwalin called out, pulling Bilbo back with him to press against the mountain. A boulder hurtled through the rain towards them striking the mountain above them. The dwarves threw themselves towards the mountain, hoping to avoid the worst of the falling debris. With one hand Brentan fisted Harry's shirt and forcefully drew him backwards, the other flew out signaling Hermione and Ron, urging them to press against the rock wall.

"This is no thunder storm, it's a thunder battle! Look!" another dwarf called drawing the company's attention. A flash of lightning illuminated a massive stone being parting from the mountain adjacent to their own, a boulder in hand.

Bofur gaped, "well bless me, the legends are true! Giants! Stone giants."

Harry felt his hand fly out to grip Hermione's, Ron had a death grip on her other hand, and Brentan's hand still gripped his clothing as if the man were afraid his charges would blow away.

Thorin focused a wild eyed glance at his company, "Take cover!" The giant geared to throw his boulder, "You'll fall!"

"What's happening?" Kili cried out, the giant threw the boulder, Harry's eyes widened in horror as a second giant appeared from behind the mountain they now cowered on, bumping into it, causing another smattering of rocks to fall from above them. The boulder smacked into the second giant causing it to stagger backwards.

The mountain shuddered, the ground beneath their feet beginning to give way, "Kili!" Fili called out lunging to take hold of his brother's hand "Take my hand, Ki-" The ground between the two brothers split and fell. Leaving the company divided.

The Dwarves staggered, Ron pulled Hermione closer to him, her grip slipped from Harry's grasp. Brentan hauled Harry closer to him, eyes darting around taking in all of his charges. He shakily made his way past Harry, wedging himself in the midst of the young magic users, bracing them against the mountain with his arms protectively.

The two giants continued to clash, their movements powerful yet slow. A third giant emerged, throwing yet another boulder at the first two.

Some of the company jumped the chasm attempting to escape the ensuing madness. The boulder struck the head of the second giant, causing it to stumble and fall in the midst of the company, dragging along the cliff face as it dropped down into the chasm below.

"No! No, Kili!" Thorin screamed, nearly lunging over the side after them. Fili let out a wordless scream, and Harry felt panic well up in his throat as he moved to look for himself, he had to see if they were okay. Brentan pushed him backwards again.

"I'll not lose any of you!" He admonished sternly, "Stay put!"

"We're alright!" a cry resounded from below and Harry sagged in relief, "We're alive."

"Where's our hobbit?!" Bofur inquired, panicked. Harry's eyes darted around spying fingers grasping at the ledge.

"There!" He cried ducking out from under Brentan's grasp and diving for his friend's hands, catching hold of his wrists and gritting his teeth as the Hobbit scrabbled at his sleeves.

"Harry!" Brentan shouted, seemingly unsure of whether he should follow after his wayward charge or care for the two nearest to him. Dwalin grasped at Harry's shoulder's to keep him from being dragged down with Bilbo. Harry grunted as Bilbo began to slip out of his grasp.

"Bilbo! Hold on!" Hermione cried out from behind Ron. Thorin swung down from the cliff, hefting the hobbit back up onto the ledge before heaving himself up.

Dwalin drew the hobbit from the cliff's edge, "Thought we'd lost our burglar." Harry stood brushing himself off, breathing a sigh of relief.

Thorin drew himself up to his full height, looking down at Bilbo with an unreadable expression. "He's been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come. He has no place amongst us." He turned away, calling for Dwalin over his shoulder.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter was extra-long, and actually it was supposed to be longer than it is, (originally tracking around 9,000 words but I peeled the last 3,000 off because I wasn't comfortable with it just yet) but that just means I have more for the next chapter. But boy was it a doozy to write! Seriously though. This is a long friggen chapter. I did have a lot of ground to cover and wanted to give you guys a little something more to chew on. The last few chapters were a bit short.

So Ron has been taking the spot light more often than not, not only because I think Ron often gets the short end of the stick in the books, but because I believe Ron really needs to have the spotlight every once in a while. He's a middle child, and friends with a celebrity. He's never recognized for something outstanding because either his siblings have already achieved it, or Harry overshadows him in some way. This is a large part of their conflict in fourth year I think, Ron's jealousy comes to a head.

**Kl0udZ** made a comment about Aragorn in their review, And while it was never in my plans to make him guide the trio of teens through middle earth, I decided to look into the matter because...curiosity that's why. He would have been a tiny lil tyke at the time of Bilbo's visit to Rivendell. Around ten or so. And my mind went "OHMYGODSOCUTEANDFLUFFY!" So I popped him in there for a scene. No real reason...or is there...?

I apologize for any spelling mistakes, weird word mistakes or punctuation errors I made. I try to read my stuff and reread to eliminate them but somehow when I go back after posting, I spot some that I missed and I find myself pointing at the screen with rage that they managed to live through my grammatical genocide. I apparently am not a very good Grammar Nazi. Mein old Grammar Fuerer (English teacher to some homicidal red pen wielding maniac to most) will be most displeased.

Anyhow, thanks again to all you lovely reviewers. All seven of you! I always look forward to feedback. But now that you've fed the author, she shall not be sated.

I demand more verbal sacrifices! Review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Catalyst**

**Summary**: In which Harry, Hermione, and Ron get sucked into Middle Earth by way of a defunct portkey on their way to the Quidditch World Cup. Set in the beginning of GoF/The Hobbit.

**Author's note**: I must announce; I do not own _The Hobbit_, _Lord of the Rings_ or _Harry Potter_.

So I may have been wrong about Aragorn's age, however I think I'll leave the last chapter as is. I want to thank everyone who reviewed and provided constructive criticism. I hadn't realized I used the word medic instead of healer in chapter one. That was a bit of military jargon slipping through. I'll try to keep that in check from here on out.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

The cave they had found to spend the night had happened to have been a poor choice. Its floor had been on hinges of all things, dumping them into their current predicament half way through the evening. Right into the lap of a goblin horde.

The goblins of Middle-Earth were at least two heads taller than the ones Harry was used to interacting with at Gringotts, and a lot uglier. They had round heads and long ears. Wide slatted eyes set far too close, with flat slits for nostrils making them appear more snake-like than human. Their stooped posture made them all the more menacing. Harry felt naked without his sword, and he glanced wildly around for any sort of escape route from the dark caves as they were herded at spear point.

Rickety wooden bridges and support beams littered the caverns, ramshackle holes served as home for the creatures; thousands of goblins leered and screeched as they passed, Brentan pulled Hermione to stand in the midst of the men folk as they were brought before the largest goblin yet. "Stay by me." He ordered gruffly, eyes calmly assessing the creatures around them. Harry and Ron crowded closer to their guardian, eyes narrowed, anticipating the worst.

Just as wide as he was tall, the goblin wore a crown of bone and twine, too small for his head. His body was covered in boils and sores, and his chin wobbled down to his chest. He stood to loom over his group of captives, making the platform creak, as their weapons were dumped before him.

Harry tucked his hand in his sleeve, carefully palming his wand, noting that his friends seemed to be of the same mind. Hermione gently tapped his elbow in a silent request for room to maneuver if needed, and Ron casually tipped his chin up. Harry shuffled forward a step or two, as the Goblin King snarled.

"Who would be so bold as to come into my kingdom armed?!" He peered about at them with a bulbous eye, "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?" Harry tore his eyes from the goblin to cast a critical eye at the Company, frowning when he didn't see Bilbo's head of curls amongst them.

"Dwarves, your Malevolence." A stooped goblin replied.

"Where's Bilbo?" Harry inquired of Hermione and Ron softly, he saw Kili's head swivel about looking for the Hobbit.

"Dwarves?" The goblin King inquired turning his critical eye on his assistant.

"We found them on the front porch." The goblin clarified, voice high and nasally with excitement. If the circumstances weren't so dire, Harry would have found the statement laughable.

The goblin King sneered at them again, "Well don't just stand there! Search them! Every crack! Every crevice!" Goblins advanced from every side, Harry tightened his grip on his wand as a Goblin lunged at him from the side; only to stagger backwards, fingers merely brushing his sleeve, a dazed expression on its face. Harry blinked looking to the few goblins around Hermione and Ron only to find them in a similar state.

Hermione's expression was smug as they tottered away from them. The rest of the goblins began withdrawing from the dwarves, their belongings scattered about the dais and Harry cringed as he spotted Oin's hearing horn crushed in front of the elderly dwarf.

"What are you doing in these parts?!" The goblin King snarled, voice echoing off of the cave walls ominously, chins wobbling. "SPEAK!"

His only response was glowering silence from the collective party, Harry shifted his stance slightly, well aware of the eager grins of the surrounding goblins.

The goblin King grinned nastily, his yellow teeth emphasized in the torchlight. "Well then, if they won't talk, we'll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler, bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the girl!" He levelled a knobby index finger at Hermione. Her expression darkened as goblins surged forward, hands outstretched to grab her. Brentan snarled, pulling her closer to himself in an attempt to protect her. Harry moved to draw his wand.

"Wait!" Harry's attention snapped to Thorin as he stepped forward, cautiously tucking his wand away yet again. All activity ceased and Hermione sagged against Brentan in relief, Ron stood protectively in front of her, jaw tense and eyes burning.

The goblin King smirked, "Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain." The massive creature bowed theatrically crown wobbling precariously on his head. "Oh, but I forgot, you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you nobody really." Harry was sure Thorin was leveling his very best broody scowl at the goblin, "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A pale Orc astride a White Warg."

Thorin jerked in surprise, "Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago."

The goblin laughed uproariously, joined by his subjects as he waved to a goblin perched in a basket with a roughly cut slate. "Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize." The goblin hastily scribbles down his message and, cackling, began to pull a lever moving his basket along a system of pulleys and out of sight.

Dozens of goblins surged from the depths, carrying massive instruments of torture on their shoulders, the Goblin King began to dance about, the platform buckling and shaking beneath his weight as he began to sing like an excited child. "Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung! You'll be beaten and battered; from racks you'll be hung. You will lie down here and never be found, down in the deep of Goblin-town."

Goblins rifled through their belongings greedily pushing at each other as they scavenged. The Goblin's man servant snatched up Thorin's sword, hobbling towards the Goblin King. He excitedly slid the sword from its sheath before shrieking, slinging the blade to the ground where it clattered from its sheath fully. Goblins scattered, hissing, the Goblin King reared backwards in horror. "I know that sword! It's the Goblin-cleaver, the Biter, the blade that diced a thousand necks!"

The goblins turned on the dwarves angrily, lashing out with ropes chains and some even coming close and snapping like dogs. Harry stumbled into Ron in an attempt to stay out of reach of a particularly determined goblin that had fixed its slatted golden gaze on him, drool dribbling down its chin.

"Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off his head!" The goblins managed to get a hold of Thorin, pushing him to the ground and a wave surging between the dwarven king and his company.

A massive explosion of bright light halted the proceedings, a shockwave ripped through the caverns flinging goblins into the air and over the edge of the wooden dais and into the abyss below. The company and the great goblin were thrown to the floor.

Harry's ears were ringing as he clambered to his feet quickly, the others following a bit more sluggishly. "Take up arms!" A booming voice cut through the ringing silence that shrouded Harry's ears, the noises around him coming back into sharp focus as if water had been drained from his ears. "Fight!" Gandalf's voice washed over the company and they all lunged for their weapons, falling back on the grey wizard.

They dashed after him as he led them across rickety bridges, slashing the anchoring ropes after they had crossed safely and sending the pursuing goblins plummeting to their deaths.

Another mad dash across yet another rickety bridge. A looming figure dropped down on the connecting platform, Making it shake and wobble precariously, the fleeing company stopped short.

"Thought you could escape from me?! The Goblin King?!" His neck fat wobbled in his anger as he squared up to Gandalf, The old wizard adjusted his grip on his sword. "There is nothing that you can do to fell me wizard!"

Gandalf slashed his sword across the Goblin's abdomen, neatly disemboweling the large creature.

"That'll do it." The Goblin king dazedly commented before he fell bringing the platform, the bridge and the company down with him.

* * *

The daylight blinded Harry when they finally reached an exit, making a mad dash down the hillside away from the tunnels. Brentan herded them off towards the dwarven company a few feet below, running stock of them.

"Are you alright? Anyone injured?" he inquired, sounding breathless the three teens shook their heads wearily taking the opportunity to properly strap their weapons to themselves.

"Five, six, seven, eight. Bifur, Bofur, that's ten. Fili, Kili, that's twelve. And Bombur, that makes thirteen." Gandalf counted off sheathing his sword absent mindedly, before he twisted around scanning the crowd of panting dwarves, "Where's our burglar, where's Bilbo?" He inquired, seeming more frantic, "Where is our hobbit?"

Gloin twisted about, a frown on his face, "Curse that Halfling! Now he's lost! I thought he was with Dori!"

Dori Turned to the redheaded dwarf, mouth agape in disbelief, "Don't blame me!"

Hermione scowled thunderously, "Curse him? How about we find him!"

"Where did you last see him?" Gandalf inquired searching the faces around him. Harry felt a knot form in his stomach and exchanged a worried glance with Ron.

Bofur stepped forward helpfully, "I think I saw him slip away when they first collared us."

Taking two large steps Gandalf leaned down into the dwarf's space, expression urgent, "What happened exactly? Tell me!"

Thorin scowled, shouldering past his comrades, "I'll tell you what happened." His voice was heavy with scorn and Harry found it hard not to feel a spark of anger towards the dwarven king. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again, he is long gone."

Harry was on the verge of opening his mouth to defend his friend when Bilbo's voice piped up from behind Gandalf. "No, he isn't."

"Bilbo!" Harry cried out in relief, His sentiment echoed by Hermione and Ron called out a relieved sounding "Thought we lost you, mate." He bobbed his curly head in greeting and stuck his thumbs through his suspenders, rocking self-consciously on his furry feet.

Gandalf sagged in relief upon the sight of the hobbit. "Bilbo Baggins. I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life."

Kili rushed forward in a mixture of excitement and relief, followed closely by his brother. "Bilbo, we'd given you up!"

Fili eyed the small creature with curiosity, "How on earth did you get past the goblins?"

"How indeed?" Dwalin inquired, showing more suspicion than relief at the Hobbit's safe escape.

Bilbo chuckled nervously, tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking onto his toes again at all the attention.

Hermione scoffed at the dwarves, moving to give the hobbit a hug, "What does it matter?! He's back; we can get out of here."

Thorin leveled his scowl at her, "It matters. I want to know." He pinned Bilbo with a heavy gaze, as Hermione released him from her hug, "Why did you come back?" his voice had softened a touch at the question, genuine curiosity shining through.

Bilbo paused, looking around at each face before plucking up the courage to speak, "Look, I know you doubt me. I know...I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books, and my arm chair, and my garden. See, that's where I belong." He paused, looking thoughtful. "That's home. And that's why I came back, cause...you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you, but I will help you take it back if I can."

A howl broke into the end of his sentence, and the company looked up to see a pack of wargs scrambling down the mountainside towards them. "Into the trees! Quickly!" Gandalf cried, motioning downhill with his staff and the company complied.

Harry darted around the trees as quickly and carefully as he could, the sounds of wargs bearing down on them eerily familiar and he tumbled over a root, his face smacking painfully on the ground. He scrambled up, a hand fisted in his tunic pulling him along and he plucked his now cracked glasses from the ground and stuffed them onto his nose. He shot a quick "thanks" to Ron as they continued to flee.

Bursting through the tree line, they skid to a stop. The clearing was small; a few tall sparse trees grew near a cliffs edge. They were cornered. Harry cussed softly; hand on the hilt of his sword, something warm ran down his chin and his tongue flicked out, tasting copper. He wiped at it with a sleeve absently.

"Into the trees!" Gandalf called out, and Harry lurched towards one, and threw himself into it. Finding a high enough perch, breathing hard. Hermione, Ron and Bilbo had followed him into the tree, he noted as the warg pack emerged at a leisurely pace from the tree line.

"Arm yourselves," Hermione called as she unslung her bow and notched an arrow in one smooth motion; Ron's hand steadying her as she straddled the branch of the tree. The arrow flew and Harry drew his wand in grim determination.

Kili drew his own bow from the tree next door, quickly joining Hermione in eliminating enemies as they lunged forward, the duo picking off the riders with deadly accuracy. The rest of the dwarves began throwing their flaming pinecones. Harry's stunners dropping a few wargs, and missing just as many.

"I'm useless with my glasses cracked like this!" Harry snarled as he missed a warg by a hair, instead sending a spray of dirt up into the air.

A wall of fire ignited between the wargs and the company, making their enemies pause momentarily in their onslaught. A warg howled, and the defiler snarled something to his comrades, and suddenly they were surging over the flames.

"Occulus Repairo, Harry!" Hermione snapped, though not unkindly, as she let an arrow fly; fingers meeting air when she reached for another. "I'm out!" She cried, slinging her bow cross body and drawing her wand.

Harry cursed, muttering the spell and tapping his glasses, blinking as they mended instantly.

Slinging his own bow, Kili swore loudly "I'm out too." The dwarf scowled, the expression eerily reminiscent of his uncle.

"Can't we just 'accio' the arrows back? REPULSO!" Ron inquired, jabbing his wand towards a Warg as it leapt towards the trees they were sitting in, sending the snarling beast flying backwards. It landed with a sickening crack and didn't move to rise.

"Sure!" Hermione answered with a hint of hysteria to her voice as she flicked her wand at an oncoming orc wielding an axe "BOMBARDA!" a spray of dirt and a high pitched howl of pain as a warg was tossed backwards "If you fancy yourself becoming a human pin cushion that would be an excellent idea!"

Ron glowered as he hissed out a 'repulso' at an orc that was charging one of the other trees axe raised, "Well sorry for trying to bloody help!"

A new wave of wargs jumped the wall of flames, the white orc amongst them, throwing themselves against the trees, causing them to shudder and tilt. The first tree fell, hanging precariously over the edge of the cliff, their dwarven companions and Brentan with it.

"Brentan!" Harry called out, receiving no answer but the cries of panic as the dwarves clung to the tree, clung to life; he clenched his wand between his teeth and began to climb down.

"Harry! Are you mad?!" Hermione screeched. Harry swung down another branch, hissing as a warg snapped at his ankle, only just missing him.

The warg circled wide, raring to run at the tree again, it's eyes wild in the firelight. Harry snatched the wand from his mouth, "Only a little! Bombarda!" flicking his wand in a parody of what Hermione had just done, Harry watched fascinated as the ground beneath the creature exploded, violently sending the animal howling backwards. He dropped the remaining few feet and sprinted to the fallen tree.

Hermione clung to Ron as another warg rammed into their tree, making it shudder and creak to the side a little more. "I refuse to die like this. I refuse to die here!" he she cried out loud, tears of frustration pricking her eyes.

He sprinted past Thorin, the dwarf only had eyes for the Pale Orc. Sliding across the dirt to the edge of the cliff, glasses askew as he stared at the chain of dwarves hanging desperately from a tree limb, Brentan hanging at its very end.

"Hang on!" Harry called down, unsure of how he was supposed to help them up, mind whirling through his limited list of spells and he cursed. Most of them defensive or offensive in nature. He peered back over the edge as Brentan's fingers slipped from Bombur's grasp. "NO!"

Mist swirled chaotically around where Brentan had fallen. He dangled an arm over the ledge, fingers curling back towards his palm. He had failed.

"Help!" Ori called out, grip slipping under the Weight of the dwarves clutching onto him. Gandalf managed to extend his staff in time to catch him from dropping into the abyss below.

A gust of wind made him squint, withdrawing away from the edge. A massive eagle rose from below, Brentan clinging to its back for dear life.

"Thorin!" Dwalin cried out and Harry turned to look. Thorin was clamped in the jaws of the white warg as it shook him, reminding Harry of one of Aunt Marge's dogs with a stuffed toy. "No!" the warg tossed Thorin to the ground, he did not get up.

The white orc sneered, "Biriz torag khobdudol." A warg rider swung off of his mount, striding menacingly towards Thorin, Harry watched horrified as the creature raised its sword, snarl twisting its already gruesome countenance. Harry's mind went blank. If he threw a spell at the orc he would surely hit Thorin as well.

As the orc readied himself to take Thorin's head, Bilbo threw himself forward, knocking the orc to the ground. They struggled for a moment before Bilbo managed to plunge his glowing blue blade into the orc's chest. He pulled his sword from the body of the creature, standing shakily in front of Thorin's prone form.

More wargs advanced on the Hobbit and Harry sprung from the ground, wand extended in front of him. "Expulso!" A warg flew sideways away from the hobbit, Dwalin Fili and Kili surged past him with fearsome battle cries crashing into the remaining beasts.

A warg sans a rider charged at Harry, drool bubbling from its mouth, He opened his mouth another spell on his lips when an eagle, larger than an acromantula, swooped down and plucked the warg from the ground, lazily flinging it over the cliff. The large birds swarmed the cliff top, fanning the flames with their wings, knocking down trees.

The air rushed from Harry's lungs as an immense set of talons closed around him, wind whistled in his ears and he clung to the eagle, watching as more of the creatures swooped down picking up the rest of the company.

He caught sight of Hermione and Ron being plucked from their perches in the tree and he closed his eyes to relish the feeling of flying. He missed flying, missed quidditch, missed Hogwarts, missed home. Pressure built in his ears as the eagle swooped down, wings' flapping as it slowed gently dropping him at the top of a plateau.

He exhaled in a whoosh at the sight of Thorin laying unmoving in the center of the plateau. Gandalf hovered nearby, a worried frown creasing his face and making him look older.

"Thorin." He had never been particularly fond of the brusque dwarven king, especially his scornful attitude towards Bilbo. He scooted closer to the dwarf, noting that he was still breathing, and didn't seem to be bleeding too badly. Other members of the company began staggering onto the plateau, the Eagles swooping lazily away.

Bilbo rushed to the dwarven king's side as Gandalf knelt down, placing a hand over Thorin's face with a whispered spell.

Thorin's eyes fluttered open, gasping for air as if he were drowning. "The Halfling?" He inquired weakly, gripping Gandalf's hand.

The wizard smiled, relief flooding him. "It's alright. Bilbo is here. He's quite safe." The other dwarves surrounded Thorin with smiles and mutterings of relief and Harry backed away to join Hermione and Ron by Brentan, looking up at the windswept ranger with relief. Earning him a rakish grin in return.

Dwalin and Kili manage to get Thorin onto his feet and he gruffly shrugged them off striding up to Bilbo, an unreadable expression on his face. "You." His voice was rough, "What were you doing?" he snarled, advancing on Bilbo as the hobbit nervously wrung his hands stepping backwards "You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild and that you had no place amongst us?"

He drew closer to Bilbo, his nose scant inches from the other man's. Bilbo bit his lip, hurt in his eyes. Thorin clasped his arms around him suddenly, "I've never been so wrong in all my life!"

Hermione let out a gush of breath, a shaky smile broke across her face. She glanced tearily at Ron, letting her fingers tangle with his as they watched the rest of the company clap the two on the back, grinning happily.

* * *

Harry squatted next to the wall of a rock formation, head drooping wearily towards his knees, eye's begging for some sleep. Rest that had been denied the company for the last few days. He turned his eyes on his companions. Hermione rested her head against Ron's shoulder, their hands once again tangled together. Brentan stood near Harry, pronounced bags under his eyes but looking far more awake than most.

Bilbo slid down the hillside towards them, expression grave. Harry stood rubbing his back with a grimace.

"How close is the pack?" Dwalin rushed forward first followed closely, by a handful of dwarves and Gandalf.

"Too close," Bilbo mopped the sweat from his brow, a worried expression creasing his face, "A couple of leagues, no more, but that is not the worst of it."

Dwalin gripped Bilbo's shoulders tightly, "Have the wargs picked up your scent?"

Bilbo frowned, "Not yet but they will; we have another problem."

"Did they see you? They saw you!" Gandalf concluded in a panic, turning to scan the wood around them.

Bilbo shook his head, "That's not it."

Gandalf relaxed, turning to the dwarves with a smile that was reminiscent of a proud parent, "What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material."

Bilbo stared at the dwarves in exasperation. "Will you listen?" they chuckled and jostled each other, not quite hearing the hobbit's quiet protests. "Will you listen? I'm trying to tell you there is something else out there."

Harry shook his head, hair now shaggy and falling into his eyes. The dwarves stopped muttering, looking concerned, Gandalf looked thoughtful, "What form did it take? Like a bear?"

Bilbo looked startled then mildly suspicious, "Yes." He paused, considering the wizard, "But bigger, much bigger."

Bofur rounded on Gandalf, expression aghast, "You knew about this beast?" Gandalf frowned, walking a few steps away. "I say we double back."

Thorin grimaced "And be run down by a pack of orcs? I think not."

Gandalf turned, looking slightly troubled, "There is a house, it's not far from here, where we might take refuge."

Thorin turned to the wizard suspiciously, "Whose house? Are they friend or foe?"

Gandalf turned to walk away, "Neither. He will help us, or he will kill us."

Harry turned to look at Brentan in dismay, "I don't very much like the odds." The Ranger muttered.

"What's one more wanting us dead?" Ron grumbled ignoring Hermione's halfhearted swat at his shoulder. "Besides if he doesn't we can finally get some sleep."

Harry pumped his fist into the air, "Give me sleep or give me death."

Hermione frowned at them, "Stop being so melodramatic. I'm sure everything will be fine."

"What choice do we have?" Thorin inquired rhetorically. A roar split the night and the company exchanged fearful glances.

Gandalf readjusted his grip on his staff, peering into the night dubiously, "None." They ran.

* * *

"What was that?" Ori inquired as the company lay panting inside the large house they had just barely managed to get into before being eaten by a large bearlike creature.

Harry stooped with his forehead against the wall, hands holding onto his knees. "I think I'm going to vomit." Brentan chuckled airily and slapped Harry's shoulder in passing as he wandered deeper into the house.

Ron sat near him, flinching away belatedly, swatting at Harry's calf in disgust as the brunette wizard began to cough. "Jesus not near me."

"That," Gandalf panted, leaning heavily on his staff, "Was our host." Everyone turned to give the elderly wizard varying looks of confusion.

"A bear?" Hermione inquired, leaning against the wall on Ron's other side. "Our host is a bear?"

Gandalf smiled at her indulgently, "His name is Beorn, and he's actually a skin changer." Gandalf stood straight having caught his breath, "Sometimes he is a huge black bear; sometimes he's a great strong man."

Ron blinked at the wizard, "Normally I would think that would be wicked, but considering he just tried to eat us…" Hermione rolled her eyes at him sliding down the wall and leaning on his shoulder, eyes drooping.

"The bear is unpredictable, but the man," Gandalf waved a finger in the air to drive his point home "can be reasoned with. Though," he tacked on thoughtfully, "he's not over fond of dwarves."

The dwarves looked amongst themselves in dismay, Ori pulled away from the door with a relieved exclamation of "He's leaving."

Dori started, yanking his youngest family member from the door, a scowl on his face, "Come away from there! It's not natural, none of it. It's obvious he's under some dark spell." He glowered at his companions, ignoring the brooding stare Nori directed his way.

Gandalf frowned, "Don't be a fool; He's under no enchantment but his own. Alright now get some sleep, all of you. You'll be safe here tonight."

Harry stood straight as the rest of the company began spreading out throughout the house. He held out his hands to Ron and Hermione helping hoist the duo to their feet.

The morning shone brightly through the windows waking the trio. They shuffled sorely towards the group of dwarves clustered quietly around a table. Finding seats they watched with trepidation as a tall hairy man stooped through the doorframe.

He calmly poured some milk from a pitcher into a cup in front of Fili. Eyes locked on Thorin's proud form at the head of the table. "So you are the one they call Oakenshield. Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"

Thorin leant forward in surprise, "You know Azog? How?"

Beorn smiled grimly, "My people were the first to live in the mountains, before orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved." Hermione bristled at that, Ron put a hand over hers to calm her. Harry's eyebrows rose at the gesture and he took a sip from his cup, he eyed the broken manacles around Beorn's wrists one still had a link of chain that dangled from it. He winced.

Beorn continued as if he were talking about the weather, "Not for work you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

"There are others like you?" Bilbo piped up curiously.

Beorn gazed at Bilbo for a heavy moment, his gaze seemed far away, "Once there were many."

Hermione took a deep breath, "And now?" she inquired hopefully.

He turned a sad smile to her, "There is one." A heavy silence fell on the table as the Bear like man wrestled with his memories. He seemed to shake himself, "You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?"

"Before Durin's day falls, yes." Gandalf answered gravely.

Beorn hummed, "You are running out of time."

Gandalf nodded, "Which is why we must go through Mirkwood."

Beorn looked troubled by this, "A darkness lies upon that forest, Fell things creep beneath those trees." Harry shared a look with Hermione and Ron noting how it sounded similar to the Forbidden Forest. "There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need." He turned a wary eye into the trio, "Especially with children."

Brentan leant in from the other side of the table, "We will be parting ways at Mirkwood, we will be taking the southern trail to Rhun."

"And we will be taking the Elven road. That path is still safe." Gandalf interjected.

Beorn furrowed his thick brows, "Safe? The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They're less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not." He stated, seeming to stand even taller and Harry wondered if he was taller than Hagrid.

Thorin furrowed his own brow at the skin changer, "What do you mean?"

The man smiled grimly at them all, "These lands are crawling with orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive." The dwarves shifted nervously around the table, exchanging wary glances. "I don't like dwarves." The large man ground out angrily. "They're greedy and blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own." He paused, picking up a mouse that had scampered across the table towards him, striding towards Thorin. "But Orcs I hate more. You are welcome to rest here and take what you need for your journey."

* * *

"Block left"

A yelp, "Liar! That wasn't left!"

"Do you think," The sounds of clashing metal resumed, "That your opponent will dictate his every move to you boy?" A flinch at the word boy, Brentan's eyes narrowed in thought as he parried a wild swing from the young wizard.

"If I end up having trust issues," Harry grit out as their swords clashed and Brentan pushed him backwards a few steps, "I'm blaming you!"

Brentan chuckled, allowing his charge to catch his breath. "If you end up having trust issues young Master Potter, I imagine you'll thank me for it."

Harry huffed a soft "Right." before he continued his assault on Brentan. The ranger parried a few more blows noting the increasingly sloppy nature. With a half smirk crinkling the corners of his eyes, he disarmed his opponent with a careful flick of his sword.

"You're beginning to get sloppy. We'll call the end of this duel." His lips twitched into a half smile at Harry's sigh of relief as the boy carefully sheathed his sword. "You're doing well. You're foot work is much better, now I believe we just need to work on your stamina." Harry nodded, looking pleased by the praise. "Ronald, arm yourself." He called and the red head eagerly complied.

Harry plopped himself down by a large patch of exotic looking flowers, keeping a wary eye on the giant bees that buzzed lazily through the air. Clanging metal soon broke the peaceful calm, and Harry's eyes were drawn to the fluid movements of Brentan and Ron as they danced about each other silently. A small sprig of jealousy rose within him to see Ron moving so well, taking to the sword better than Harry. He squashed the feeling violently.

"You did well." Hermione complimented as she dropped beside him gracelessly, sheen of sweat covering her brow and her finger tips an angry red from practicing archery with Kili across the yard. "You'll catch up soon." She said easily, her belief in her own words warming Harry and chasing away any residual jealousy.

"Thanks." He stated simply. "You're getting really good with the bow." He returned the compliment, eyes still trained on the two men as Brentan threw Ron off balance.

"Thanks." She returned, blush staining her cheeks. Her hands moved up to her braid and she slowly picked it apart letting it tumble freely down her back for the first time since they had begun their journey. "Fili offered to teach me how to throw knives." She offered eyes now focused on the duel in front of her.

"What about a close quarters fight?" Brentan pushed Ron back a few more steps, tapping the red head's shoulder with the broad side of his sword before dancing backwards a few steps.

"I'm sure he'll cover basics of hand to hand." Ron lunged forward brushing the outside of Brentan's leg with the broad side of his own sword.

Harry grunted and fell backwards, letting his fatigued muscles melt into the warm grass. He let the now familiar sounds of metal on metal wash over him and frowned. "Hermione."

She hummed to let him know she was listening.

"What happens if the Blue Wizards can't send us back?"

His question was met with a moment of silence. He allowed his eyes to drift from one cloud to another in the sky, his heart feeling too big for his chest and too small all at once.

"I don't know." She admitted quietly, sounding deeply disturbed by the thought. All the fear, doubt and homesickness Harry had been pushing away seemed to wash back into him all at once.

A thousand questions danced through his mind, each one more upsetting than the last. He kept his mouth firmly closed, turning a discerning glance on Hermione who also looked to be battling her own questions and doubts. "Sorry," He exhaled, nearly choking on the emotions he felt. "I shouldn't have-"

"NO!" Hermione interrupted, looking shocked at her own volume as Brentan and Ron halted in their duel to look over at the two curiously. She sent them both an uneasy smile and held her tongue until they had resumed their sparring session. "No. You should have. We need to prepare for the worst, we need to be ready for when," she cut herself off with a self-depreciating shake of her, now unruly, curls. "_If _we end up stuck here."

Harry agreed silently with a nod of his head, swallowing around a thick lump that had formed in his throat.

After dinner that evening Harry found himself sitting with his back against the wall, running a whetstone over his blade carefully, a rag sitting on his knee as he worked. Ron had promised to join him after he had tried some of Bilbo's pipe weed and Hermione had trailed after him hissing about the negative effect tobacco had on the human body.

Harry startled out of his mindless rhythm by the feeling of someone sitting next to him. He twisted to smile unsurely at Brentan as the older man rested his sheathed sword on his lap. "Mind if I join you?"

Harry shook his head mutely.

Brentan unsheathed his blade; a handsome thing forged by men, and began to go through practiced motions of cleaning and sharpening his weapon. After several minutes of the two men sitting in silence Brentan finally interrupted the peace. "Want to talk about it?"

Harry started, nearly dropping the whetstone in his hand as he peeked out from under his frumpy fringe at the ranger. "About what?"

Brentan scoffed quietly at the question, "When we sparred earlier. I called you 'boy'." He stated focusing on Harry's tensing shoulders. The man returned his focus to his weapon allowing Harry to stew on his statement, weighing his whetstone in his hand pensively.

After a several more minutes of silence, Harry finally went back to sharpening his blade, his strokes slow and measured. "When I was a baby," he began uncertainly, "my parents were murdered. I was sent to live with my Aunt and Uncle." Brentan put his weapon aside, turning his attention on his charge. Harry kept his slow pace, finding comfort in the familiar motions. "They didn't like anything…unnatural." He explained, Brentan kept silent, studying the boy as he paused his motions for a split second. "They wouldn't call me by name. I thought my name was boy until I started school."

Brentan inhaled sharply. Noting how his charge had gone completely still, his expression troubled. "I did not mean to dredge up such painful memories."

Harry sent him a wry smile, "It's okay." He sheathed his sword, "It's a little better now. I only have to stay with them a few months out of a year." Brentan reached out before he could stop himself and drew the boy to his chest with one arm, tucking the tousled head of black hair under his chin. Harry sucked in a breath, surprised at the sudden contact.

The door burst open, letting cool air waft into the cabin, a gaggle of dwarves swarmed into the building, filling the quiet space with jovial voices and loud unbridled laughter sweeping Hermione and Ron in with them. "And I have two of the best mates a bloke could ask for." His voice was muffled by the fabric of Brentan's tunic as the ranger gave him one last squeeze before allowing the wizard his own space again.

Harry stood, sword in hand, and an awkward expression on his face. "And me." Brentan added after thinking for a moment, "You also have me, lad."

* * *

Harry floated in the black, knowing it wouldn't last long, he closed bottle green eyes and relished the feeling of freedom, the weightlessness in the black. The world righted itself faster this time; Harry took a shuddering breath, the stench of smoke prevalent. He took another steadying breath and opened his eyes.

He wasn't on the mountain; he was in the midst of what appeared to be a destroyed camp ground, thousands of dilapidated tents spread in rows around him, wood and fabric strewn on the ground before him in a trail of utter destruction.

Only a few feet away, the twisted corpse of a brunette woman in her nightgown lay face up, her dull eyes clouded over and unseeing as they stared blankly up into the night sky. A green smoky symbol writhed above her, a skull with a snake winding through its eye sockets and slithering out of its mouth. –_Death, destruction, terror_\- this wasn't Middle-Earth. He was dreaming of home, somewhere he'd never been. Another vision?

"Harry." It was her voice again, Harry felt a tremor of fear run down his spine as memories of his last dream sprang up unbidden, and he closed his eyes, swallowing hard. –_Safe in Beorn's halls, surrounded by friends, this wasn't real, it WASN'T_\- He opened his eyes and the woman on the ground was her, red hair splayed about her head, green eyes glazed in death, a fond smile frozen on her lips.

"You're getting so big," her voice was all around him, surrounding him with its motherly affection. "So strong."

Harry trembled, trying to resist the urge to go to her. –_it wasn't real but it was still her, it was enough_\- stumbling forward to drop to his knees next to Lily's body, vision clouding with tears. "Mum, I'm lost. What do I do?" He cradled her head in his lap, eyes frantically scanning her pale skin, void of color, void of life.

"You must survive. You must kill him, destroy every inch."

"How am I supposed to survive, who am I supposed to kill? Voldemort?" –_DON'T SAY HIS NAME!-_

"You must die."

"How can I survive if I die?!" Harry cried in frustration. "You're speaking in riddles!"

"He's with you, connected to you, leeching off of you." Lily spoke, her mouth moving; body jerking to sit up stiffly, more marionette than human, hands gripping his face hard as her dead eyes stared into Harry's own.

"What?" Harry winced as her nails dug into his face.

"Eight pieces to destroy, eight pieces of him." Her dead glossy gaze searched his bottle green eyes desperately, "You must survive Harry." Her face began to flake into grey, her hands softening and becoming brittle. Within moments her body crumbled to ash in Harry's hands, blowing away across a field of dead bodies, towards a familiar lonely mountain.

Gravity seemed to twist making him fall backwards through smoke and mist to land hard on rocky ground, His breath left him. Through the haze a goblin bore down on him, sharpened teeth grit together in a snarl. He scrabbled at his empty belt for his sword, in his sleeve for his wand. He was unarmed, he could only close his eyes and lift an arm in a vain gesture of self-defense as the goblin thrust his spear into Harry's chest.

-_Born as the seventh month dies, neither can live while the other survives_-

Harry woke to a strangled cry of pain and the sound of half a dozen drawn weapons, sweat trickled from his brow and his breathing was heavy. His hands clutched at his tunic and he realized belatedly that he had caused the company's current state of wary wakefulness. "Sorry. Just a dream." He muttered into the darkness, moonlight glinting off of half drawn blades. A snick, a hiss and a small flame illuminated Brentan's face before he lit the wick of a lantern.

"Sheathe your weapons." The man growled to the room at large before he flopped back into the hay, arm thrown over his eyes. "There's no danger here." The sound of weapons sliding back into their sheathes and groaning dwarves lasted mere seconds before all was quiet again.

Harry scooted backwards until his back hit a wall and pulled his knees to his chest. Ron came to sit next to him, yawning and leaning into his side, Hermione imitated him on the other. "Was it the same one as before?" Ron inquired blearily, sword clanking as he set it down beside him.

"No." Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. "It was- It was a different one. I was at a camp ground, it was massive and everything was destroyed. There was this mark floating in the sky. A skull and a snake. Then there was a woman on the ground, dead." He took a shuddering breath.

Hermione wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders squeezing him slightly. "Was it your mum again?" a sharp intake of breath from nearby had them pause, blinking into the poorly lit room before they dared to continue their conversation in a lower tone.

"Wasn't at first. She turned into her." Harry clarified, voice cracking. "She told me I had to kill him."

"Who?" Ron inquired, eyes closed now, but brows furrowed.

"She wouldn't say, but I thought maybe she meant Voldemort-" Ron flinched away from him.

"Why must you insist on saying his bloody name?" Ron grumbled as he resettled, shoulder coming back into contact with Harry's again.

"Why are you so scared of hearing it?" Harry growled back, eyes narrowed in irritation.

"Boys." Hermione interjected a tired note of warning in her tone. Ron lightly punched his shoulder looking away into the dimly lit room his ears turning a very distinct shade of pink and Harry roughly bumped Ron's shoulder in return, the almost argument forgiven and forgotten as the boys smiled shakily at each other. "Harry, did you-" she paused, choking on the words she wanted to say, "Were you killed again in your dream?"

Harry's smile faded –_a ripping pain, a wicked grin, blood so much blood he was drowning in it_\- "Yeah."

There was another sharp intake of breath from one of the company, and this time they disregarded it.

"Chest again?" Ron inquired staring at where Harry had started unconsciously rubbing, "Maybe it's a vision, like Trelawney." He let loose a jaw cracking yawn, which Harry echoed a moment later.

"Maybe you should speak with Gandalf about your dreams." Hermione suggested, arms going back around his shoulders to give him another squeeze. Ron made a rough noise of assent as he flopped his head onto Harry's shoulder, and Harry allowed his cheek to rest on top of Hermione's head, trying to push out memories of his first dream that bubbled to the surface with the small gesture. "In the morning." She amended yawning widely, moving to hug Harry's arm to her protectively.

The dawn found the three sleeping teens tucked together against the wall, a blanket that looked suspiciously like one of Brentan's thrown over their laps.

* * *

A day later found the teenage trio astride a ponies. Harry stared at the backs of the dwarves in front of him, anxious to be off, yet unwilling to leave the safety and peace of Beorn's home behind. The Man stood to the side of the gaggle, scanning the surrounding clearing for danger, "Go now, while you have the light. The hunters are not far behind." He warned.

The company tapped their heels to the ponies' sides and they were off, rapidly covering ground and Harry wished they could keep their mounts for the duration of their journey. They slowed to a stop at the edge of a looming, gloomy forest that could certainly give the Forbidden Forest a run for its money.

Gandalf dismounted first, followed by the rest of the company. "The Elven Gate." He stated almost reverently.

Brentan nudged his charges towards their packs. "This is where we must part." Brentan announced, "Our path lies further south. Gentlemen it has been a pleasure."

Bilbo smiled up at them, as they removed their packs from the ponies, "It's been a pleasure. I will miss you and I wish you luck on your journey."

Harry grinned down at the hobbit, "You're a brave man, Bilbo."

Hermione knelt down and hugged him, "We'll miss you Bilbo!" Bilbo blushed, patting the girl's back hesitantly.

Ron shifted nervously from beside Harry, shouldering his pack, "We'll miss you mate." He said, clapping a hand on Bilbo's shoulder as Hermione let him go. "Look after those dwarves, aye?"

"Oi!" Fili shouted at them looking affronted, "He'll be the one needing a looking after!"

Kili grinned, "Our wee master Boggins."

Thorin cuffed the twins over the head gruffly but fondly, "Enough, we're wasting daylight."

* * *

The tree line was thick, the vegetation old not having been touched by humanity in decades if not longer. They trekked south towards a trail that would lead them safely through Mirkwood and on towards Rhun. They were silent for a stretch, each lost in their own thoughts.

Brentan said the road to Rhun, if they kept a steady pace, was only about a week's journey. Once there Harry hoped they could find traces of Alatar the Blue.

Brentan murmured something to Ron and clapped him on the shoulder before deliberately falling behind to match strides with Harry. "What seems to be troubling you Harry?" Harry gave Brentan a sidelong glance, the Ranger puffed on a long black pipe, seemingly content.

"Back on the cliff." Brentan Ah'ed in understanding, but remained silent otherwise, "You could have died, because of me." Harry finished after a long moment of silence. "Because I wasn't-" he paused words flying through his mind –_because I wasn't enough, wasn't smart like Hermione, wasn't strong like Ron_-

"You didn't knock the tree over a cliff." Brentan pointed out with a wan smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Harry scowled up at him through his now too long fringe, "I could've done something to keep you from falling."

Brentan huffed, ruffling Harry's hair fondly. Harry ducked away, batting at the Ranger's hand halfheartedly. "But you didn't have to, and I'm alive and well."

"What if, maybe, someday, I might get someone killed because I'm not prepared?" Harry countered. – _Someone I care for because I'm not smart enough or strong enough_-

"That is a possibility." Brentan thoughtfully drew another lungful of smoke, and Harry broodily stared at the tips of his dusty leather boots. "But you can't save everyone, Harry."

Harry jerked his head up in surprise. "I'm supposed to." He felt slip out before he could stop it. "I'm the one who has to defeat the Dark Lord, I _have_ to save _everyone_."

Brentan lifted his eyes skyward, watching a pair of sparrows dance around each other and disappear into Mirkwood's deep foliage. "I'm telling you that you can't. It's impossible, especially for a fourteen year old boy." Harry opened his mouth to retort but Brentan cut him off. "Wizard or not, you're still but a child. To think on such a matter as you are, will certainly drive you to dark thoughts or worse." Harry sulked for a moment. Brentan sighed, tipping his pipe upside town and tapping the side to clear it of residual tobacco and ashes. "It's fine to want to be prepared, so when you get back to your world, study, learn all that you can and live." Harry jerked to a stop for a split second before faltering forward again, shocked by the ranger's last few words, reminiscent of a dream, _those_ dreams. –_You need to live, Harry_-

"Have some regard for your life, you may not be aware but your recklessness and disregard for it concerns your friends." Brentan continued on unnoticing of Harry's sudden inner turmoil. –_You must die so that you can live, die to survive_-

"Hey! I think I see the trail ahead!" Ron called from a ways ahead, pointing excitedly to a break in the dark foliage.

* * *

**Author's Confession:** I think I have grown a bit overly fond of Brentan. I had wanted him to remain aloof and mysterious, only fulfilling his role as protector, guide and teacher. But then he took on a life of his own. In my mind he has a lovely wife and two little girls in a small village somewhere. He's always wanted a son, and is now projecting this on both Ron and Harry as he teaches them and grows closer to them. He's a big mushy bear.

I'll never get rid of him now; I've named him, nicknamed him mushy bear, and fed him. He'll just keep coming back for more….like a stray cat. God Damnit Brentan son of Elmar, you smug sonuvabitch.


	5. Chapter 5

**Catalyst**

**Summary**: In which Harry, Hermione, and Ron get sucked into Middle Earth by way of a defunct portkey on their way to the Quidditch World Cup. Set in the beginning of GoF/The Hobbit.

Author's Note: I most assuredly don't own Harry Potter or the LoTR franchise.

So I have to admit one of the reasons this chapter took so long to write is because my mind leapt forward to submerge itself in drabbles of happenings that will occur once this story's plotline has ended. And being the impulsive creature I am, I wrote those little musings down. And now have a sizable collection of drabbles to compile into a sequel of sorts. Although, I wouldn't really call it a sequel so much as a drawn out epilogue…. But like I said, I jumped well past the end of this story. Also Life and stuff happened.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

It had been close to a week since they had parted ways with the company. The road looked as though it had once been well worn. Trees loomed above it, shadowing their path but not blocking out the sun entirely. Roots crept along the sides and, in some of the more worn areas, protruded from the middle of the road.

Their days were spent in wary anticipation as they trekked through the wood, every sound putting them on edge. The nights spent along the edges of the road proved no better, tense and full of apprehension as if someone or something lurked along the edges of the firelight watching. Waiting.

It was on such a night that Brentan pulled his pipe from his pocket, lighting it with one of the few matches he had left and the last of his tobacco. "We should be nearing the edge of the forest within the next few days." He said from his place in between Hermione and Ron, who had decided to stop speaking to one another earlier that afternoon. Both teens sullenly chewed on small hunks of stale bread and some dried meats, the tail end of their provisions. Brentan poked at the fire, regarding his three young charges as he drew in a long slow breath from his pipe.

Hermione sat primly to his left, determinedly studying the knot in an old gnarled oak at times, at others glancing across him in a subtle manner to observe her red headed friend. Ron sat on his other side, popping the last of his bread into his mouth before fumbling for his sword and whetstone, his mouth a thin agitated line. Harry sat across the fire, heavy bags beneath his eyes as he stared into the flames listlessly. His dreams becoming far more troubled the further they travelled into the woods. Brentan allowed a small frown to turn down the corners of his lips, making a mental note to coax more answers from the boy, if only to ease the young man's mind. The young man in question popped the last of his meat into his mouth after a fair bit of prompting from Hermione before turning to set up his bedroll. The brunette's weary eyes drifted shut before he'd properly settled into his furs and his breathing slowed into a steady rhythm moments after.

* * *

Gone were the canopy and the tangled roots of Mirkwood; instead, Harry floated in darkness, weightless and unarmed. He felt his heart leap and his stomach lurch as the world righted itself, he nearly staggered as his feet hit solid ground. Bottle green eyes peered dubiously about his surroundings. He stood in a pavilion built amongst massive, grey tree boughs. The leaves had begun to change, their green fading to a vibrant golden color. He cast a glance to a basin of water in the middle of the circular structure.

It was unnaturally still, and Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably. "I have been waiting for you to enter my realm, Harry Potter." A smooth voice echoed through the stillness, power buried in the tone. He whirled about eyes widening and hand grasping for a weapon that was not there. He relaxed marginally at the sight of a familiar golden haired elven woman, clad in flowing white gowns. Her lips quirked, her face a mask of aloof amusement. "_Sîdh, Ithryn wenya_."

His mind floundered for a moment, a dim memory swimming from just beyond his grasp. "Lady Galadriel." He greeted finally, uncertainty clouding his tone. She smiled wanly at him, gliding further into the pavilion, circling around him to the other side of the basin. He felt the well of panic that had begun building in his chest slowly trickle away. "Where are we?" He inquired turning his attention to their surroundings curiously, taking in the spiraling wooden ramps and stairs leading up into the trees. High stretching arches seemed to be popular architectural decision amongst elves, Harry decided.

"We are in the heart of _Lothlórien_." Galadriel replied, no small hint of pride coloring her tone as she gestured about them in a sweeping motion. "One of the few safe havens in _Arda_, for here evil may not enter without difficulty." She swept her fingers across the rim of the basin, and Harry stepped forward hesitantly to peer at it, frowning when the reflection did not mirror Lady Galadriel or even the golden canopy high above them. She quirked a brow and her lip gave a coy lift at the edge as she silently beckoned him forward. "The _Valar_ have brought you to our world for a reason, young wizard. And already they hint at their purpose."

"The Valar?" Harry whispered distantly brows furrowing at the new foreign word, eyes flickering from Galadriel's face down to her basin with a frown. "Why us? Why now? How-" he choked then on the rising tide of questions that wanted to pour from his mouth. How long had she known their purpose? Who were the Valar? How could she possibly know what the Valar (whoever they were) had sent them to do? How would they get home?

"I have seen as much and much more." She again brushed her fingers along the edge of the bowl. Harry took one hesitant step towards the Lady. "Do you wish to look into the waters for yourself?"

Harry startled, only a foot from the waters, so unnatural and still even beneath the golden leaves and grey tree boughs. He thought back to his first year, being drawn to the Mirror Erised night after sleepless night. He paused, uncertainty weighing heavy in his gut. "What does it show?"

She smiled at him, the trueness of the expression crinkling the corners of her eyes. "Images from distant times and places. Things that may be, things that are and things that shall never come to pass."

Harry almost snorted at the riddles that flowed from the mouth of the immortal woman before him. His feet carried him to the basin, his body felt heavy as he stooped over the edge. He blinked at the image the water displayed.

A field, not unlike the ones he saw in his dream lay before him. A single, familiar mountain stretched up towards the sky in the distance. Instead of bodies, he saw fields with row upon row of crops bursting from the earth, and a bustling city sprawled about the base of the mountain. It faded, bringing forth a startling image of Diagon Alley, he felt himself lean in, taking in the desolation. Shop signs hung crooked, windows boarded up; people darted from the few open shops in small tightly clustered groups, casting wary eyes upon each other. Cloaked figures in skull masks stood on the corners surveying the scant crowds with stoic disinterest. The image shifted again a small cluster of stone buildings stood alone and unafraid, half consumed by tropical foliage. In the distance a small swarm of riders bore down on the village. It shifted again, showing fire and blood, the image so real Harry could feel the heat dry his eyes.

He blinked rapidly and found himself staring at a starry sky, Mars shining bright, his lungs burned for air and his nose was scant millimeters from the water's glassy surface. His neck strained against an invisible force as it tipped him towards the water. His head broke the surface, the icy temperature causing him to inhale involuntarily. Water filled his lungs even as air whistled past his ears as he fell into the inky blackness.

His mouth drew in more water as he gagged and thrashed, the wind whispering past in a voice that sounded very much like Galadriel, "_Na lû e-govaned vî._"

* * *

Harry woke gasping for air, his feet kicking his bedroll from his body in a panic, hands clapping over his mouth to prevent himself from crying out and waking anyone else. He heaved in one shuddering breath after another until he calmed and steadied. Sitting up, he glanced at the dying embers of the fire, taking in the slumbering forms of his friends huddled about it. He froze when he met Brentan's dark eyes; the embers throwing his weathered features into stark relief.

Harry wearily stood and padded over to the Ranger, sitting down heavily beside him. Harry slouched, propping his upper body up on his knees and staring tiredly into the remains of their fire. He blinked down at the ranger's hands, a knife in one hand and a piece of dry wood in the other. The beginnings of a carving, too new and crooked for Harry to make out what it was to become.

"Rough night?" The Ranger rumbled kindly, continuing his carving in slow methodical movements.

Harry grunted, head dropping to stare at the dirt between his feet. "Rough week." He replied tersely, lifting his head and running his hands down his face. Grimacing at the oily feel to it and wishing silently for a warm bath and a soft bed. Brentan hummed in acknowledgement, casting a glance at his charge as wood shavings fluttered to the ground.

"Night Terrors are not uncommon, especially after the trials you have faced thus far." Brentan stated after a few long moments of silence.

Harry stared at the side of his guardian's head, taking in the thickening facial hair and bruise like marks under the man's dark eyes.

"They're not-" Harry started, choking on his own tongue as he drooped, head hanging between his knees. "They're visions." He stated. "I think." He paused, frowning at the dirt as he dug the tip of his boot into it fiercely. Wishing, not for the first time, that they were only half remembered horrors that faded upon waking.

Brentan's eyebrows flickered upward; he carefully slid the knife back into the sheath in his boot and pocketed the carving. "Oh?" he inquired, patient curiosity lacing his voice. At the Ranger's tone, Harry smiled wryly at the dirt. The inflection of a father, a guardian.

"I met with Galadriel in Lothlorien." Harry stated quietly. Raising his head yet again, missing the startled look on the Ranger's face at the small admission. "She showed me visions in a basin-" he cut himself off unable to describe the things he had seen. She had said that the basin showed the past and things that may not come to pass. Time and, by proxy, the future seemed to be a fickle thing and so did seeing it.

Brentan hummed thoughtfully. "I take it these visions are a new development." He queried gently.

Harry let out a strangled noise, as he straightened and turned to look at Brentan fully, "Well-" He paused, uncertain, "I've had visions before, just not like these."

Brentan nodded understanding and let the conversation drop, content to sit companionably in the unnatural silence of the forest.

Travel the next day proved just as draining, the camp's morale was low as they sat around a small fire, a fallen log that the boys had rolled closer to the road serving as a seat for Brentan and Ron while Hermione and Harry sat side by side on the ground.

A slight whistling sound cut through the silence that had enveloped the quartet followed by the sharp snap of dry wood. "Bloody hell." Ron whimpered, eyes staring intently at the arrow that protruded from the log he sat on, having missed hitting him by scant inches. Harry's hand firmly gripped his sword hilt and Hermione had scrabbled backwards for her bow, eyes scanning the darkened tree line for the archer, knuckles white.

Brentan rose slowly, sword hilt in hand "Show yourselves." He called bravely as Ron finally leapt to his feet, skirting away from the arrow a few steps, his shaking hands clasped around the sheath of his own weapon.

"You are outnumbered, drop your weapons." A deep authoritative voice demanded, six elves melting from the forest around them, arrows pointed steadily at the quartet. A seventh glided out into the firelight, his long blonde hair cast in an orange hue, his bow was clasped confidently in his left hand. The elves were dressed in dark greens and browns, blades adorned their belts and full quivers poked out from behind narrow shoulders.

Brentan laid his sword on the ground, his movements slow and deliberate. The teens exchanged wary glances, inching closer to their guardian as they too slowly lowered their arms to the forest floor.

The seventh elf slung his bow over his shoulders. His party still peered at them from over fletching and under furrowed brows. "Who are you to trespass into our kingdom?" He inquired imperiously, flinty eyes taking them all in in the firelight.

Harry and Hermione slowly inched their way around the fire towards Ron and Brentan Harry found his eyes trained on the tip of the nearest arrow, caution and fear warring in his stomach.

"I am Brentan, son of Elmar." The ranger gestured towards the trio of teens beside him. "I am escorting my three charges to Rhun in search of the Blue Wizards."

The elf drew closer, regarding Brentan curiously, arms folded behind his back in a fashion that reminded Harry distinctly of the muggle military. "What business do children of men have with the Istari?" He wondered, his inflection softening.

Brentan grunted in annoyance at the question, his eyes narrowing at the elf before him. "Whatever business they have is their own." He answered vaguely the elf's brow rose minutely before he schooled his features. "I have offered my name, and have yet to receive one from you." Hermione sucked on her teeth at Brentan's prompt, eyes flickering between the elf and the older man worriedly.

The elf looked startled for a moment, before his lips twitched upwards. "I am Ebarid of Mirkwood." After a long moment he straightened and muttered something indistinguishable in Sindarin and the surrounding elves lowered their bows. Ron let loose a loud breath, his arm winding around Hermione's shoulders and his other hand reaching out to tug Harry closer to them. "Well met." Ebarid said, extending his arm to Brentan.

The men clasped each other's forearms in greeting, "I apologize for not requesting an audience with King Thranduil, but this is a time sensitive matter." Brentan said as they released each other.

Ebarid tilted his head, eyeing the three teens over the ranger's shoulder curiously. "Yes well truthfully we have little business dabbling in the affairs of men; however there was a company of dwarves spotted along the Forest Path north of here." Harry felt his spine straighten and Ron's grip on his arm tightened minutely as Ebarid turned a critical gaze to Brentan once again. "Do you know anything of them?"

Brentan snorted, his shoulder's relaxing, "Only in passing." He answered easily. "Ran across them in the Misty Mountains, nothing but trouble that lot." Ebarid granted them a shrewd glance before nodding to them and motioning to his comrades. They silently drew back into the trees, eyes trained on the quartet as they went.

"Be on your guard, Ranger." Ebarid warned as he too slipped past the reach of firelight.

The quartet stood in silence, peering into the dark tree line after the elves for a long moment, "That wanker almost shot me!" Ron finally exclaimed, gesturing to the arrow that was still buried in the log behind him.

Harry regarded the arrow critically as Brentan leveled a patronizing glance at the red head, "Take care what you say, young Master Weasley." He sank back down on the log, staring mournfully at the empty pipe bowl and stuffing it back into his coat pocket. "These trees have ears."

Ron shot a mistrustful glance around himself and Hermione plucked her bow and quiver from the ground and sat down next to the ranger. "Honestly Ron, I think he missed on purpose." She chided gently, voice still quavering from the rather jarring introduction to the elves of Mirkwood.

Ron frowned at her. Brentan gripped the arrow and tugged it from the dead wood, sticking it into Hermione's quiver where it stood out starkly amongst the brown fletching of her other arrows. He took in her shivering shoulders for a moment before the girl let out a choked sob and cradled her face in her hands.

"We could use some more firewood." The Ranger looked at the boys meaningfully. Harry fastened his long sword to his belt hurriedly. Ron followed suit a relieved look gracing his features. "Try not to stray too far." Brentan threw after them as they all but ran from the circle of firelight. "There now." Brentan stated, once the sounds of the boy's footsteps had faded, turning to face the young girl as she tried to stifle her sobs "Everything is fine, no one was harmed."

She shook her head at him mutely, shoulder's shaking and tears leaving tracks down her cheeks. "It's not-" she cut herself off with a hiccupping sob, "It's not that."

Brentan's brow smoothed, "What's wrong?" he inquired gently.

She blearily blinked up at him, choking back another sob, "Oh this is so mortifying." She swiped tears from her eyes, trying to calm her own breathing. Brentan rubbed a circle between her shoulder blades, his face a mask of patient understanding. "I just- what if we don't make it home?" She inquired finally voicing her own fears, "What if we die before we even reach the Blue Wizards? What if they can't help us?" He pulled the distraught girl into a one armed hug, a frown creasing his brow as he turned to stare at the flames of their dwindling camp fire. "What will we do? Where will we stay?"

Brentan turned back to Hermione, meeting her puffy, too bright brown gaze with a determined look. "You will not die before we reach the Blue Wizards, I will see to that." He stated firmly, pulling a relatively clean cloth from his pockets and handing it to her with a gentle noise he often used with his own daughters. "If they can't help you," he paused with a frown, "then you may stay with me and my kin until we find a way for you to return to your home."

"Really?" She inquired, graciously accepting the cloth from his hand and dabbed at her eyes. "We wouldn't be imposing?" she asked waveringly.

Brentan gave her a bemused look, "Miss Granger, the presence of you and yours would be a joy and a blessing. Never an imposition."

* * *

The boys trekked along the side of the trail in silence, backtracking until they were sure they wouldn't be overheard. Ron cast a searching glance over his shoulder, "Think she'll be alright?"

Harry frowned at the distant glow of the campfire, "I think the journey is wearing us all thin." Harry replied lowly, feeling as worn through as Hermione had looked.

"Bloody hell, Harry, I can't wait to get out of this bloody forest." Ron exclaimed, hands raking through his hair in frustration. "I feel like I have water in my ears or something, it's bloody maddening." Harry hummed in agreement, bending down to retrieve a sizable stick from the path. "And what was with the Ebrid bloke?" He inquired hotly, butchering the name of the elf who had presumably shot at him.

"He was a bit titchy wasn't he?" Harry agreed thoughtfully, staring pensively up at the canopy of gnarled branches. They fell into silence as they picked twigs and fallen branches from the sides of the trail. Harry let out a forlorn sigh, "I can't wait to go home."

Ron hummed picking up a few more pieces of kindling, "I never thought I'd say it, but I miss my brothers." He confided, latching onto the change of subject willingly, scrunching up his face in mild disbelief at the words that tumbled from his mouth.

Harry grinned, "You know what I miss?" he inquired rhetorically, "flying."

Ron sighed, tucking another stick under his arm, "Quidditch. Wonder who won the World Cup?"

Harry thought for a moment, "Bulgaria has a wicked seeker but Ireland has a more solid team."

Ron scoffed, "Yeah but Bulgaria has Krum!"

Harry snorted right back, "And a lousy defense." He muttered, stomach growling loudly into the silence. "Treacle Tart." He groaned dramatically. "My kingdom for some treacle tart!"

Ron sighed, "I miss mum's cooking." They both gazed down forlornly at the thought of a home cooked meal. "She made the best chicken pot pie…" Ron stated wistfully.

Harry frowned down at his thin tunic, "I loved her jumpers."

Ron picked up another stick with a disgruntled noise, "You would miss those things." He stated with a playful roll of his eyes before a mischievous grin stretched across his face. "Bloody hell, you know who I miss the most?" Ron inquired, "Malfoy, the little git." His voice sounded almost fond.

Harry snorted with laughter, bending down to snatch up a promisingly dry twig on the very edge of the path. "You miss Malfoy about as much as I miss Snape."

Ron stared dreamily up into the gloomy canopy. "Or one of Ginny's bat bogey hexes."

Harry let out a small chuckle at his friend's tone. Turning back to level a look at his best friend, he paused. Ron was ghostly white, focused on something over Harry's shoulder. A rapid clicking noise from behind him made Harry straighten, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. His hand gravitated towards the hilt of his sword "Merlin's shorts." Ron choked out. "Not again."

He drew his weapon, the wood he had gathered clattering to the road, and whirled about in a move he often practiced with Brentan during their training sessions, the blade cutting into the face of a spider as tall as Harry. It shrieked and Ron yelped, stumbling into action. The red head drew his own weapon and whirled to press his back against Harry's. They were surrounded. Massive black spiders with menacing pincers clacked and scuttled about them.

"This is the second time!" Ron whimpered, "And most definitely the last time I am _ever_ fighting giant spiders in the woods with you, Harry!" He thrust his sword into the head of a smaller spider that had lunged at him. It died with a squeal and he pulled his sword from its carcass with a squelch and swung it wildly to his left catching another spider's leg joint with the elven blade, cleaving the limb in two and causing the arachnid to stumble forward towards Harry.

The smaller wizard floundered for a moment before smacking it reflexively with the flat of the blade as he might if dueling an ally. It hissed, struggling up onto its remaining limbs. He cursed and twisted his grip before swinging his sword in a downward sweep, burying the blade in its thick carapace.

"I'll be sure to remember that next time I have the urge to do this again!" Harry grunted, trying to pry his sword from the carcass, tugging becoming frantic as another spider raced towards him, pincers wide and dripping with venom. "Shit!" He abandoned the hilt of his sword, reaching belatedly for his wand.

He was jabbed at the arachnid, spell on tip of his tongue. Brentan's sword cleaved through its head as he lunged from the surrounding darkness. The ranger whirled about to hack away at another spider with the finesse of a seasoned warrior. Harry twisted to face an oncoming spider as Hermione appeared behind him,

"Repulso!"

"Bombarda!"

The two spells sent the final spider flying back into the trees.

Surrounded by the massive bodies of arachnids, the familiar eerie silence of Mirkwood descended upon them. Harry cast an exhausted glance around them, trying to catch sight of their guardian through the gloom; panic welled up inside of him, his lips parted to call out the Ranger's name when a gruff familiar voice called out an "all clear." He melted from the surrounding shadows, covered in dust and dirt and more than a little spider's blood. Harry's panic garbled from him in a strangled noise at the sight.

He was quickly spun around by a wild haired, puffy eyed witch who quickly crushed him into a hug. Harry wheezed a bit as she abruptly released him holding him at an arm's length to regard him fondly, "Thank Merlin you're both okay." She stated with shaky disbelief, hand reaching up to brush Harry's fringe away from his eyes fondly. She whirled about before he could answer to hug Ron.

"I'm sorry." The red head murmured around her hair, squeezing her tight to him. "I am an idiot." He agreed to an insult she had hissed at him the morning prior for another of his tactless comments "I'm sorry."

Brentan strode up to them, looking his charges up and down for signs of injury, nodding once he was satisfied and clapped Harry on the shoulder, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. "You did well." He turned his gaze to the still embracing couple with a raised brow. He cleared his throat, amused when they leapt apart as if scalded. "All of you." He paused to take them in proudly before beckoning them to him, "Let's get back to camp. We will catch a few hours rest before moving on, no doubt there are more where they came from."

* * *

The structure loomed, broken and bleeding darkness over the surrounding forest. Azog stalked through the courtyard. Up the stairs and towards a broken bridge that once led to a shadowy shattered tower. He abruptly halted feet from the crumbling ledge, dropping to a knee head bowed low. "The Dwarves escaped, our information was faulty." He snarled, looking up as shadows crawled from the surrounding ruins, amassing into a vaguely man like shape. "They had more than one wizard in their company."

* * *

**(Absurdly long) Author's Note:** The first form of difficulty with this chapter was the dialogue between Harry and Galadriel. I can be okay with cryptic noble speech but she's something else entirely. No seriously, that was some hard stuff for me to write. And they only had a few lines in that piece too. Lord save me.

I debated heavily over what kind of creature they would face when going through Mirkwood. I felt like the whole giant spiders experience would be like repeating their second year with acromantulas. But it would be unrealistic of me to assume they could get through Mirkwood without running into an elvish patrol or spiders (as they are infesting the wood). Honestly I think of this chapter as a staging chapter for the next one. I have grand plans for it. And only a few paragraphs written which is disgraceful really. But I promise there will be more fighting, and at least _some_ character development.

For all my reviewers, I thank you profusely for feeding the attention monger inside me and giving words of praise and of course criticism. Your feedback is always welcome and appreciated immensely.

I received one of the longest and best reviews I have ever read from **Kefalion** and honestly it made me glow a little inside. They pointed out a slight (Major) mistake towards the end of my last chapter, where I called Fili and Kili twins instead of brothers. I am kicking myself still. I was most likely thinking of Fred and George while writing it… still thank you for pointing that out to me! I really appreciated your feedback and critique!

**Hwi-Noree: **I wanted to thank you for your fantastic verbal sacrifice.** The author is pleased. **

So here's a list of reasons why they are relying on weapons other than Magic (beware none of them are even remotely satisfying):

Remaining under the radar. Wizards are rare commodities, and probably tempting for the rising forces of Sauron. (The Orcs are already aware that they exist so word is out, and bound to bring trouble later)

Swords are cool.

I am using them to practice my fight scenes. I suck at battles, though this fic is helping me develop those a little better.

I always get a little frustrated when the trio is in a situation and magic helps them cruise right through it. It always reminds me of that Tidy Cat's commercial (No matter how true it is it makes them almost invincible): Pack of blood thirsty Orcs? There's a spell for that. Hot in the desert? There's a spell for that. No matter what situation you may find yourself in, there's a spell for that.

They're fourteen years old and (though my memory may be faulty) they weren't fantastically spell savvy until their fifth year at least (Not incompetent but not exactly brimming with different defensive spells). Harry's duel with Voldemort in the graveyard was testimony to the limited amount of spells he remembered in a crisis situation.

I want them to struggle like real people, be more relatable with insecurities, character flaws, and all that uncomfortable real world crap.

But you are right; I haven't been relying on magic as much as I should. Excuses are like butts, everyone has one. So I can't shield myself with mine. I will aim to include more spell work in future chapters.

As always thank you for reading my drivel. If you feel the niggling urge, please review. I do so look forward to your feedback. No matter how short or long. I read all of them with inordinate amounts of joy. Even the ones that would have crushed the soul of a new writer. Those reviews I hug until they stop breathing. Something I like to label smuddling. Behold my monstrous mathematical vocabulary system!

**(Smothering + Cuddling = Smuddling)**

Perhaps I smuddle reviews before they can smuddle my soul?

**Elvish Words/Phrases**

_Sîdh_ \- Peace

_Ithryn_ – Wizard

_Wenya_ \- Green

_Na lû e-govaned vî_ -Until next we meet


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